PZA: Zero, the Special-Needs Slaveboy 15-17

"Take the stage tonight, go and face the lights."
– Asia, Album, 'Go'. Track, 'Rock & Roll Dream', 1985.

Mark formally takes possession of Cory at a gathering of Collins' friends and slave owners. Zero makes more progress, and gets some idea. Mason and another little friend make their appearances.

It seemed, as more and more guests filed in, that this 'family' that they'd spoken of was quite large. Hell, I'd been to weddings for friends that weren't so grand. They were all finely dressed, and I felt like a slob. There were mostly men, but even a few of what appeared to be heterosexual couples. Some of the male guest Masters seemed to be quite young, and some of them reminded me of my nephew, Peter; they could have been college students. I thought them a bit young to be slave owners, but then again, I'd just had my arse handed to me for not knowing how to be a proper Master. What the hell did I know?

Henry and Zero introduced them all formally. Well, Henry introduced them – Zero just parroted him as best he could. No one laughed at him, though, and Zero was getting quite a few pats on the head, pinches of his cheeks, and a great many pats on his untattooed butt cheek. I was amazed that he seemed to be enjoying it. His constant smile was like a bright light, amazing in that just a week ago, he'd have been having a meltdown in such a gathering.

Then, of course, there were the boys. They came in all shapes and sizes and ages, all races, and all in varying degrees of gear and modifications. One little Polynesian-looking boy that I guessed to be about six or seven even had a prosthetic leg below one knee, one of those blade-type devices that didn't seem to slow him down a bit. I also noticed that his free hand on the same side of him was artificial as well – a shining metal device that looked robotic. Mark introduced him as 'Binaohan', meaning 'hit by a coconut'. I wondered just how an accident with a coconut could have done that much damage?

"You can just call me 'Cyborg' for short, sir," Binaohan bowed to us, smiling at Mark and the others, "Everyone does!" he grinned, as if proud of it. He was missing some baby teeth, and it made him lisp. His Master, a Caucasian fellow named Paul, explained that it was a birth defect and that he'd picked the boy up some years ago while on vacation in the Philippines. Binaohan's gear was a very light colored woven soft rope material of some kind, with colored beads interspersed here and there in the weave. His tattoos were a bit hard to see, and he was otherwise unadorned except for some colored weaving in his long, black hair that was held back by a brightly colored headband.

Paul joined us at our table in the rapidly filling room, and Binaohan sat on his lap. I found it odd, as many of the boys had seated themselves on the floor next to their Masters.

"Don owns the little dark one dressed in gold tone," Mark informed Paul, who turned to give Zero another look.

"We're not sure," I conceded, as Henry squeaked out the arrival of our last guests.

I looked up sharply, anxious for a look at the mysterious Mason that everyone kept talking about.

He looked to be about thirteen or fourteen, pale Caucasian, and I gasped. The boy was obviously into puberty, well-muscled and hard as a proverbial rock. He had no piercings that I could see, and his slave tattoos were in brilliant red ink. His chest marking was in block letters, but no so large – tastefully going from between nipple to nipple. He had the standard barcode on his butt, and the word 'slave' on his left outer thigh as well. There was also a barcode over his left breast, and a freshly gelled circled 'M' on his arm just like the new 'S' on Sebbie's bicep.

His hair was so black as to be almost blue in the highlights, and it was curly all the way down to his shoulders and almost hiding his eyes. Those eyes were so dark brown that it was hard to see where the iris ended and the pupil began. He wore no makeup, other a bit of deep red gloss on his ample lips. He had a pert nose, and not a single freckle or mole on his round face. He was also a good head or more taller than Sebbie or Henry.

Mason's gear was also black, a polished leather wrap style that shone in the lights. Except for his collar – it was snug, round, black of course, and appeared to be made of some dark metal that had been made in the shape of a large ring. It was unlike any of the other boys' collars. He didn't have cuffs; he wore gauntlets that covered his palms and fingers to the first joint like fingerless gloves, and which extended up to almost his elbows. I could see that they flexed only a bit at the wrists, and were connected with something woven that wasn't chain.

His chastity pod was also shining black, and quite large compared to many others. It was held on by a wide shining black jockstrap-like belt, with a center strap that I assumed held his butt plug in. His ankle restraints were similar to the ones on his arms, and covered the arch area of his feet (but not the heels) and extended halfway up his shins. They were connected by the same woven 'rope', and I wondered if this were functional or decorative?

All in all, Mason Devereaux looked like a miniature heavy metal rock star about to perform a concert.

"I take it that Sebbie must be getting your new boy ready, Mark?" He greeted us heartily. "You're surely not going to hide him all night long are you?"

Mason then shook hands with all of us, and I have to admit, I felt a bit lightheaded looking at him. But there was something else there, too – something hard and dark that reminded me of Sebbie. I had the feeling that young Mason could be very dangerous if he were ordered to be. Those eyes, when ours met, were like looking at volcanic black glass.

I was, naturally, introduced as Zero's master. Zero, it seemed, was quite remarkable and that I didn't have a title – I was 'Zero's Uncle', or 'Zero's Master'. It was much like new sports teams, where you have no name with the other parents at first – you're 'Peter's uncle' or 'Tommy's mom' or some such.

"He's very exotic, your boy, sir," Mason complimented 'us', once his Master nudged him. "Very stocky. Is he weight training, sir? He seems to have a build for it."

"Perhaps you and Sebbie can give us a demonstration, later, Mace," James smiled at him, squeezing the boy's rock-hard bicep. "Isn't it amazing what a boy can accomplish, when his energies and budding testosterone aren't directed at his genitals?"

"If HE wants to, Don?" Mark corrected me. "If you want to build him up, then YOU order him to work out! You make him into what YOU want him to be – not what the boy wants to be!"

"Ah, yes! The newbie!" Paul laughed, patting Binaohan's leg. "Lots to learn, I know," he agreed. "When I first got Binaohan, my first instinct was to coddle him because of his disabilities. Sebastian soon corrected us, though, didn't he?" He asked the boy, who smiled and nodded heartily. He didn't speak, but flexed his arm to show the beginnings of his muscles with much pride. Then he clicked his artificial robotic hand.

"You won't find one single abused slave here," Mark went on. "Our family doesn't tolerate such. I suppose one could call our boys 'spoiled brats', compared to the lives of many other slaves."

I thought about how Marv treated his boy, or those unfortunate creatures owned by the State as work crews. I had to agree.

Henry and Zero then closed the doors. Everyone, it seemed, had arrived. Henry sniffled once, looking very disappointed. The kitchen slaves bustled about the buffet, putting on finishing touches and checking food temperatures, then vanished into the kitchen again.

"If I could have your attention, please?" Sebastian Collins called, taking the stage. The lights dimmed, and a spotlight came on the stage. "Thank you all for coming! As you all know, and I apologize for the short notice, tonight we induct a new member into our family. I believe you all know Mark Clemens?" He gestured. The light swept over to us. Mark stood and bowed graciously to polite applause.

"After too long a time, Mark has gotten himself a new boy, whom you'll all meet tonight." There was more applause. "Our other guest, as I'm sure you've all met his boy already, is Don Jameson. Zero was the boy in gold with braids on usher duty with young Henry!"

"Don's here as sort of a preview for them, so if you'd all help make him feel welcome?" Collins went on. There was polite applause as Zero came to sit with me. Henry sat on the floor by the door, never once looking up. I wanted to say something, but it wasn't my place, was it? "Now, before the food gets cold," Collins continued, as the lights snapped back to a side door. "It's time you all met the guest of honor, Cory."

The door opened, and Sebbie led Cory in. Cory was naked, and he walked with his eyes on his bare feet as Sebbie held his hand. It was such a contrast – the made-up Sebbie, looking severe and somewhat frightening (to me), and Cory with only his slave tattoo and not so much as a collar or pod.

Cory was being presented, totally naked and exposed, even helpless, for this odd family to view and to either approve or disapprove of. I thought it a bit cruel and downright humiliating. Then again, slave auctions were very similar.

As the boys took the stage, Sebbie presented Cory to his father/Master. He then bowed and exited to sit on the floor off in the shadows.

Cory stood with his hands behind his back, head bowed and still staring at his bare feet as Collins spoke.

"Cory, tonight you formally become a member of this extended family. You are fortunate, you must now know, to be taken in by us. By agreeing to the conditions set forth this night, you become not only a slave, but Master Clemens' slave. You also become, so to speak, a member of a vast cast of 'cousins', let's call them. Every boy here, whether purchased, rescued, or a volunteer, is still here because he wants to be. In addition to becoming to becoming Master Mark's slaveboy, and the responsibilities of that enormous title, you also take on – and receive from the other boys and Masters – the responsibilities that go with being a member of an extended family. You now face a decision that will impact the rest of your boyhood, and possibly the rest of your life, boy. This choice is yours, however. You – and only you – must decide to accept this. You know the alternative, I believe?"

I cringed. The alternative was removing the tattoo that Cory had, and placing him in the tender care of Child Services.

Then I realized something. "James, Cory's already registered as a slave," I whispered, "Why all the show?"

"Look up and address us properly, child," Collins reminded him. "Always look your family in the eye when you speak, and hold your head up with the pride that comes with being one of our boys!"

"My dad didn't want me, sir," Cory announced, and there was a wave or groans and exclamations of disbelief in the crowd. "No one wanted me. He was going to sell me to pay for his gambling debts."

"I… I was taking care of myself. If Master Jameson and Peter hadn't gave me a job and watched out for me, and if the neighbors didn't throw out so much food in their trash… "

"Monstrous!" Someone in the murmuring crowd snorted. I felt like a heel. Hell, I hadn't had a clue as to what Cory had endured. I just paid him and fed him when he seemed hungry, let him swim in the pool, or just hang out with Peter before he'd gone off to school. Cory has always just been … Cory … Peter's little tagalong.

At our table, Mason was looking angry – his face hard and his jaw clenched. Binaohan was sniffling and hanging onto his Master. Henry hadn't moved or reacted.

"So you got the idea from somewhere?" He glanced at the shadowy form to his right.

"And will you still think this, Cory, when your Master begins making demands of you?" Collins went on, "That's why you're up here, boy. You stand naked and vulnerable, for everyone to see, on this stage so that you can make an informed choice. I believe that Master Mark has already had a similar talk with you?"

"As you already know the alternatives, Cory Higgs," Collins addressed him by his old given name, "You now need to know the extent of your chosen path. If you accept this, here, tonight, in the presence of these witnesses, you agree that you are surrendering yourself to Master Mark Clemens. Your body is now his – not yours. You will have no say in how you are raised from this night forward, until your emancipation at some later date. You will do what you are ordered to do. You will not do what you want to do. Those choices are no longer yours. And you must also understand that you may never, ever, be set free again. You could very well spend the rest of your life as a slave. You could be loaned out, even sold in a private transaction." Collins paused. "But certainly within the family." He added hastily. "Once you're in, you never get out, let's say?" He grinned.

"Your new Master will take total control of your life, Cory," Collins went on, "He will keep you in gear. He may restrain you or punish you as he sees fit. It will never be your place to question his actions, except if you feel that your life is in danger. That is your only time to question his actions, as even my own son has," He glanced at Sebbie in the shadows, who nodded. "Even Masters can make mistakes, you must know. You must also realize this, and know when you should take action. We, as the family that we are, stick together. Even in our modern society of legal slavery, problems may still arise. A good slaveboy will recognize these, with proper training. Are you willing to accept this responsibility to not only be the best slaveboy for your Master that you can possibly be, but to watch over him and protect him, just as he will watch over and protect you?"

"And do you understand, in your surrender to your Master, that you give up all rights to your own body and free will – short of losing your life?"

"And do you understand that in addition to all this, that your Master can and will use you for things like manual labor, and sexual services? He may deny you access to your sexuality, such as keeping you in a chastity device. My own Sebbie has never touched his own genitals, you know. He won't be allowed until he's at least graduated college, which will be many years? Some boys here have never even seen their own genitals, much less gotten any use from them. You understand that sex is a large component of your new existence?"

I held Zero a bit tighter. I'd never explained anything like this to him. I wondered if he understood any of it? He was just staring at Collins in rapt attention.

"Your Master may want to delay puberty via drugs," Collin continued. "He may even want to have you physically altered." Cory cocked his head at him. "It's the law that slaveboys be sterilized, so that they cannot have children. But some of the boys here, tonight, have been further modified. Cory, there are boys here, like Henry, who have been castrated. You know what that means?"

"Your Master might want to do that, boy," Collins reminded him, "Even though Henry's case was because of how the system abused him and an incompetent doctor messed up his sterilization, which is not nearly the same thing. But it is also a system that you have the choice to gamble, if you refuse Master Mark. He might want you to have some piercings, like Sebbie has, or some more tattoos like the new ones that your friends have? You will have no say in this, Cory. Your Master may even want you to have cosmetic surgery, like a nose job or something else? Do you understand?"

"Your nose if fine, I think," Collins reassured him. "Where's Scotty? Come and show Cory your modifications, Scotty." He looked around, and a lithe teenage boy was making his way to the stage. He had brushed metal gear as well, dark short hair – and pointed ears. He stood in front of Cory, and held up his hands.

Scotty only had three fingers in addition to a thumb on each hand, perfectly spaced, as if he'd been born that way.

"Scotty's master wanted him to look like an elf," Collins explained. "Both are happy with is, but Scotty had no say in it. Thank you, boy," Collins sent him back to his seat with polite applause. "But that's what we mean by 'cosmetic'. How will you react if your Master wants to sharpen your ears, or maybe even give you estrogen so that you grow breasts like a girl?"

Cory thought about it, and his gaze fell on Mark. The adoration in those moist eyes was clear.

"It's not my body anymore, sir," Cory replied. "It's his. It's… .it's all I got to give him… if he still wants me."

"All you've got? Slaveboys don't have possessions, Cory. They have loan of what their Masters allow."

"Yes, sir. I have like 20 credits on a chip. It's hid in Master Don's garden under the daisies," Cory offered. "That's it. And a teddy bear."

The admission was heartbreaking. Some ratty old clothes we'd no doubt thrown out, and a 20CR chip? And a teddy bear and a rabbit. I wondered where that bear was right then.

All that, and he was asking him 'why'? Hadn't he already explained why? Cory looked like he was about to cry. I dearly hoped that Collins wasn't going to tear into him again as Mark had already done at my house. On my lap, Zero was just taking it all in. He was trembling a little, and his grip on my arm was making my hand go to sleep.

"Mark, if you would come forward?" Collins asked, and I saw Sebbie get up and scamper off to somewhere. By the time Mark had taken the stage to confront the naked boy, Sebbie had returned with a large tray.

All of the slave gear that we'd recently purchased was laid out on the tray, shining in the spotlight, as if waiting.

"Mark Clemens, this boy with nowhere else to go wishes, of his own free will and volition, in fact, in his very last act of free will, to be your slave. He offers all that he has – his body, 20 CR, a rabbit, and a teddy bear – entrusting his very life to you and to you alone. This is not a commitment to be entered into lightly. You must agree to care for him, shelter him, feed him, and see to all of his needs – both physical and emotional, no matter the monetary or other costs. In return, the boy has agreed to be your slave and to do the same for you as well. Do you agree to these terms, until such time as you see fit to emancipate him – if ever?"

"I do," Mark smiled, and Sebbie offered up the heavy tray with slightly trembling arms.

"Place the boy in his new gear, then," Collins said. "He comes to you with virtually nothing. He deserves much more."

Mark then began putting Cory's shining new chrome gear on him. He connected the ankle and wrist cuffs with the chains. Everyone laughed as Mark was obliged to apply an ice bag from the kitchen to Cory's throbbing little erection to shrink his genitals so that the chastity belt and pod could be put on him. Cory squealed once at the cold, but he took it like a trooper. The click of his pod locking sounded very loud.

Mark then had him bend over, and lubricated his butt. He gently inserted the first of the training plugs, and Cory gasped as it went in. Mark secured it, then stood the boy back up. Sebbie then put the tray down on a table, and held up Cory's collar.

Sebbie went down on one knee, bowing his head, and holding the heavy chrome collar as high as he could, as if offering some sacred treasure to a reigning Monarch.

"The most important part of a slaveboy's attire, sir, and the defining article of his existence," Sebbie spoke clearly, "The collar that seals the bond between you. If you agree to lock this about your boy's neck, you and he both commit, sir. It is an unbreakable vow, even if you emancipate him or sell him – this collar will never be used on another boy ever again. It is the symbol of the bond between you, sirs."

"If there is anyone here who can show any reason as to why this Master and slave should not be bonded, then let him or her speak now!" Collins demanded. "Does anyone claim that Mark Clemens may be an unfit Master?"

Zero was sniffling as Mark took the collar from Sebbie's hands. I was surprised to see that the unflappable little slaveboy was, for all of his harsh exterior, trembling and biting his lower lip. I was beginning to see in what kind of almost holy regard these people held this ritual.

Cory did that. Mark slipped the open collar about his neck, and with Cory's hands on his, they closed the collar together.

The last item that Sebbie took from the tray was a key. He wordlessly handed it to Cory, who then handed it to Mark after studying it for a moment.

Mark had tears in his eyes. I didn't know it then, but it was the first and only time that Cory would ever touch that key.

"I haven't had a daddy in a long time, sir," Cory replied. "I p-promise I'll take good care of you, Master!"

"My boy," Mark sighed, and he lifted Cory up, pulling him close to give him a long, serious kiss.

"Honored guests," Collins announced, "May I present the newest member of our family? Cory Andrew Clemens?"

There was much applause, and even the boys stood up to clap and whistle. Henry was crying, and Zero took him a napkin from our table. He sat with him, and Henry leaned on his shoulder.

When order had been restored, Mark put Cory back down. He did not, however, release his hand. They went through the food line first, and I thought it all much like a real wedding ceremony. I also realized in that moment just what I'd been denying to Zero without even knowing it.

Zero needed direction, instruction, and yes – maybe even more physical attention. He also needed companionship. He needed the other boys, I realized, if he were fulfill any potential that he had. Sadly, I also wondered what that potential might be.

As we watched, Cory filled a plate for Mark. The boy asked on every item, and when they'd been seated at the table at the front of the room, Cory was given permission to get his own plate – with Mark's suggestions. As host, Sebbie went with him to fill it, taking only what Cory pointed at and Mark agreed to. The first test was Brussels Sprouts, but Cory passed it. He didn't like them, but he passed. The boys then formed a neat line, bringing plates to their own Masters. When they were all satisfied, the boys were then turned loose on the buffet.

Have you ever seen a plague of locusts? That's the only way to describe it. Sebbie brought up the rear, eating only after every other boy had filled a plate.

My meal was, to say the least, interesting. Zero saw fit to put green beans on top of the mashed sweet potatoes, and the roast beef was best served with ketchup, in his opinion. A lot of ketchup. He also seemed to think that the no-gluten roll required a whole stick of butter. I gave him the hunk of cheese he'd picked out, figuring it was a bout of constipation just waiting to happen. He picked out a strong white wine for me, which didn't really suit the beef, but Zero liked the smell of it and declared it "pwet-tee!" in the glass.

Everyone, that was, except for poor little Henry. He'd sat alone by the door the whole time, saying that he wasn't hungry. For a plump little boy like him, I found this unbelievable. But of all the boys there, Henry was alone. His Master was off at work, and the boy was feeling left out now that his usher duty was done. It was clear that in watching the ceremony, Henry had been lonely and hurting.

A tall man of European descent then walked in. He was rumpled and looking travel-weary, but he carried himself with dignity nonetheless. I looked up from my conversation with James and Paul, and their boys (seated on the floor next to them with their plates) scuttled over to Henry to try and make him look up.

"Henry, look," Mason repeated, grabbing him by an ear and jerking his head around.

"DADDY!" Henry screamed, jumping to his feet and nearly tripping himself on his ankle crossbar. With an ungraceful jump, he was on him.

Henry's Master caught the boy up in his arms, and held the now-sobbing boy close as he kissed his cheek, his neck, even the top of his buzzcut head. He held the shaking boy for a while, finally making his way to an unoccupied table in the corner. Henry was crying so hard that his words were unintelligible. He just held onto his Master, shaking and crying, while the man attempted to wipe his face with a handkerchief.

It was a moving display, to say the least. I admit, I didn't really understand how a slaveboy could have such feelings for his Master. There must have been something I was still missing. Henry had been abandoned, taken off the streets, enslaved, neutered, and who-knows-how-abused before this man had taken custody of him. And yet, wasn't there the same adoration on Henry's face that we'd all seen on Cory's face?

"Love you, Uncle," Zero then said, and the words came out clearly for the first time. I was so surprised that I made him say it again. Again, clear words. It was another milestone. I kissed him, and Zero returned it in kind.

Everyone tastefully looked away, suddenly interested in many other things. Mason and his Master politely excused themselves.

Henry's Master then unlocked the boy's crossbars and hugged him again, sharing a passionate kiss. His face darkened when he stood with the boy in his arms, however.

"COLLINS! You've been starving my child again!" Henry's Master declared. "Every time you baby-sit, he loses at least five pounds!"

Sebastian Collins, at his seat at the high table with Mark and Cory, just laughed. Sebbie just shook his head and respectfully stood and bowed.

"It's about time you got here, Adam!" Collins retorted, "I was beginning to hope… think you'd abandoned the boy!" He laughed. "There's always a straggler!" He added, "Everyone, I believe you all know Master Cabot?"

The crowd called out greetings with polite applause and assorted friendly insults. Cabot just smiled and waved them off.

"It's all right, Henry," Cabot assured him. "I missed you, too. Now, can you get us a plate without tripping or dropping it?"

Henry nodded, and his smile was wide as he headed for the buffet. He was extremely careful, but he did manage to drop a serving spoon with a great clatter. He also spilled the red wine that he was trying to pour into a glass. Sebbie jumped up and relieved him of the glass, replacing it with a plastic tumbler. He made it to his Master without any further disaster, however. He pulled Henry onto his lap, and Master and slave shared a meal. It was like another little ritual, and Henry looked like a completely different boy.

When the kitchen slaves arrived to clear the tables with respectful bows, Collins called for Masters Nick and Ralphie. They and their boys then escorted a bewildered but well-fed Cory out of the room. The boy kept looking back at Mark, and his nod was enough to make the boy smile and calm down.

"No, he cleared it with them," Collins gestured at the two men exiting with the new slaveboy. "But I approve. And so will you!"

Our entertainment for the night was varied and quite educational. Two kitchen slaves brought out a small exam table that I recognized from Collin's office. It seemed that at least one of the slaveboys was going to have his prostate milked as a demonstration! Some floorshow!

That boy turned out to be Mason, who'd apparently been taken for a small enema to get him ready. He was led back in with his arms secured behind his back, blindfolded, and stripped of his chastity belt and plug. Once he was secured and immobile on the table, his Master donned a set of rubber gloves and gave his butt a slap. Mason flinched.

His boyhood was becoming aroused, and he had an ample and growing package. Puberty was being kind (if you looked at it that way) to Mason in that his balls had filled and dropped well in a shaven scrotum that was quite plump. His tightly circumcised cock, stripped of frenulum as well, was expanding impressively with the purple-tinged head already drooling. Master James placed a small collection dish beneath it. I thought it must have been almost 5 inches [~13 cm] and not too thin. It was pleasing little penis, and I wondered if Mason even knew what it looked like?

"While we all might do it a bit differently," James explained, as he lubricated the boy, "I find it highly erotic that the boy never see his genitals! Mason hasn't touched or seen his package since he was seven years old!"

"As you can all see, even though we're keeping his body waxed, that Mason is coming along nicely. His testosterone levels are normal for a teenage boy, as is his desire, and all natural. I'm planning on giving him a good fuck tonight, but I don't want him to be able to ejaculate or orgasm. I've kept him in denial for six months now, and it's made him quite tractable. Hasn't it, boy?"

"Yes, sir, I love it, sir," Mason agreed. Then James gagged him with a red ball.

"Good lad," He slapped his rump again, and Mason flinched, biting down on his gag. "I drain him once a week, or every time we have sex. Once he's emptied out, he won't be able to get erect, pod or not, and he can't orgasm or squirt – because there's nothing to squirt. As you all know, his body will think it's already done. That won't stop him from trying, though, and he'll work all the harder at it, which pleases ME to no end! A denied boy who can't cum, but thinks he might have a chance, is a much better lover than a boy who is satisfied too often."

There was more polite applause as James worked one finger, then two, into Mason.

"And as you probably don't need reminding, this technique can backfire on prepubescent boys, though. A good milking of the little ones can make them experience strings of orgasms, and can be hard on their hearts," James added, as Mason squirmed in his bonds and groaned.

Once he was opened up some, James inserted a white tool with a thick curve to it. It was shaped, he explained to us, to apply maximum pressure to the boy's developing prostate.

As soon as he inserted it, a large drop of semen dripped from Mason's cock and into the dish. Mason groaned into his gag, his cock straining with the pressure of his weekly-allowed erection. Master James worked him a bit longer, and each stroke of the tool produced another gob of semen. When Mason clenched up, James stopped. He allowed the boy's erection to wilt a bit, having stopped all stimulation when the signs of ejaculation were evident.

"Dat 'urt May-ton?" Zero asked, and I assured him it didn't. I honestly didn't know, as it seemed cruel to me. I'd never said a word to Peter about jacking off or anything else. I figured it was his penis – but – in the case of a slaveboy, it apparently wasn't. I saw that Sebbie, seated next to his father, was just taking it all in with a cold, clinical eye. I wondered if Collins did that to him yet, making him have pleasures that I couldn't even begin to imagine. "Uncle, dat… Zee-whoa?" Zero asked me, and I choked on my drink.

"You want me to do that to you?" I asked him, shocked. "Zero, you don't have any semen to drain out yet. You're not old enough."

"Oh," Zero pouted. Then again, as they'd all berated me for, maybe I could give my boy some pleasure that way? And didn't he deserve it?

Zero nodded. "Bat-fuh-yur," he added with a grin. 'Backfire'? Yes, the little devil did understand it!

Once Mason had gone flaccid, his Master resumed work on him. All in all, it took about half an hour and Mason was gasping and sweating when they were finally finished. Each time he'd tense up and shiver, James would stop stimulating him and let him go flaccid again. And each time he used the tool, or his fingers to squeeze Mason's prostate, another large gob of juice would fall into the dish. Finally, on the last squeeze, James declared his boy empty.

There was more applause as Mason was released, washed up quickly by Sebbie, and then put back in chastity for another week. He was not, however, re-plugged. He was wobbly on his feet as he bowed to the audience. "Thank you," he managed, panting.

"Sebastian," Collins ordered, "Take that sample to the storage lab and file it!"

I wondered if Mason had any children out there via artificial insemination that he'd never know about? He certainly was a beautiful boy, a child that any parent would want. I couldn't imagine how he'd come to be a slave, but then again, it was really none of my business.

Our next event came as a shock to me. Two slaves brought out a thick, large gym mat and two bands of fabric – one red, one green. The mat was dark gray, and had a white circle in the center. Henry perked up at once at the sight of it.

"Our next event for your entertainment will be a wrestling match," Collins explained, "Between my son, Sebbie, and Henry. While Henry has the advantage of weight, Sebbie is more practiced and quick. Place your bets, folks!" Collins smiled, donning a whistle from one of the other slaves as he put the green band on Henry's ankle, its mate on his own left wrist, and the red on Sebbie when he returned. Sebbie was grinning.

Both boys were stripped of all gear except for their pods and unsecured plugs. In Henry's case, his little gold acorn was put back on. I wondered what Sebbie was hiding under his small pod, that bit of something that he'd never been allowed to touch?

The boys took a crouched stance, shook hands, and Collins blew the whistle. They circled one another for a few minutes, then Henry lunged at Sebbie. Sebbie tried to sidestep him, but the heavy boy moved faster than he let on. He caught Sebbie at the waist, and knocked him down.

"POINT, green, takedown!" Collins announced, as the boys rolled around. I could hear Sebbie growling, and Zero was fidgeting in excitement, not sure which of his friends to root for as he clapped.

Sebbie then ended up on top, wrapping his legs around Henry's and pinning his face to the floor. Henry arched his back, raising up as much as he could, but Sebbie had rendered his legs useless. He got an arm about Henry's neck, pulling his head back.

"POINT, red, hold!" Collins whistled again, breaking them up and putting them in a stance with Sebbie kneeling and Henry atop him. He whistled again.

Sebbie scuttled out and around, flipping himself around to come down on top Henry. Henry let out a great OOOF! Then he rolled, as Sebbie fell again onto an empty mat. Henry fell on him then, and I thought he must have crushed him! He got Sebbie by the wrists, holding them down and using his greater weight, while pinning Sebbie's legs with his own in a twist. Sebbie's muscles strained and stood out, but he was trapped.

"POINT, green!" Collins whistled again, slapping the mat as Sebbie struggled to break free. He eventually did, but Henry was one point up. I figured that the first one to three points would probably win.

Then Sebbie came around, bouncing on his small feet, and Henry lunged. Sebbie caught him around the chest, hoisted him, and literally threw him down.

The crowd was cheering, some for Henry, some for Sebbie. Cabot was yelling at his boy, but in an encouraging way. As they grappled, it was clear that Henry's plumpness was hiding some serious strength. They rolled over and over one another, staying inside the circle, each one struggling for the advantage. It appeared that they had stalemated, however. They were getting sweaty, and it was hard for them to find purchase on each other's opponent.

"Get him, Henry!" Cabot yelled, and as Sebbie made to sweep his friend's feet with his right leg, Henry dropped and grabbed it. He got Sebbie by the ankle and literally threw him out of the ring!

Sebbie got up, came back to the ring, and bowed his head. Then both boys hugged and shared a passionate kiss, to more applause. It was clear that there were no hard feelings, and both of them were smiling. I found it painfully arousing, and surprising, watching the two sexually helpless boys kiss.

"Well done, my boy! Excellent move at the end!" Cabot kissed Henry, who just stared at him in rapt adoration of the praising. It was clear that his Master's words meant the world to the boy.

Tahj and Boy then treated us to an exhibition of mixed martial arts, and I was impressed. Whatever they'd done with their Masters and Cory, they were apparently done and both of them clearly agitated. I was sure that they'd hurt one another, but each took his blows in stride. They wore no padding either. Tahj eventually was declared the winner of the match, and he whispered something to Collins, who nodded.

Many of the boys were asking their Masters if they could play, too, and the next match was between little Binaohan and another black boy I hadn't met. He was very black, almost blue, unlike Zero's deep bronze and brown tone. He was also very bald, and about the size of Binaohan, who hopped up to the mat on one leg after his artificial leg and hand had been carefully removed. Collins slipped a thick protective sock over his arm stump to protect the exposed circuit board connector that was grown into the flesh of his stump.

I didn't think it would be a fair match, but Binaohan won! He wasn't afraid to use his bad arm, and the fact that he was missing part of a leg didn't slow him down a bit. He hopped back over to his Master, who cuddled him, but didn't "put him back together again". He just sat there, praising the boy, and massaging his leg stump.

I was surprised how much time had gone by, as we'd watched the various little skirmishes that were all in good fun. I noticed that Mark was checking the time, however, and that he seemed nervous.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, and boys," Collin announced, "Before we have a sinful indulgence in the dessert courses, young Cory is ready to give his new Master a surprise! As you all know, Masters Nick and Ralphie absconded with him some time ago!" There was laughter and more polite applause. "Tahj, Boy, bring in Cory!" Collins called.

All heads turned towards the back doors where we'd entered. Nick and Ralphie, both looking odd in suits, held the doors open as their boys escorted Cory in with a flourishing bow. All of the slaveboys stood at attention and there were gasps of surprise. Mark stood up in shock, spilling his drink.

Cory's brown hair had been cut and styled into something trendy, away from his nape and ears, but longer in the fringe that almost fell to his eyes and gelled in place. He was still wearing his shining chrome gear, but his appearance had changed. Cory held his head high, his lips shining with subtle red gloss. As he passed by our table, I could see his new tattoos.

In addition to his existing barcode, the word 'slave' now ran down his left thigh in tasteful and not overstated red letters outlined in black. The skin shone with healing gel, and the same word was between his nipples in a style much like Mason's. On his left bicep was a circled 'C', just like Sebbie's new 'S' and Mason's 'M' and Henry's 'H'. A quick glance at the other boys reminded me that none of them had such a tattoo.

The words 'Daddy's little boy' were tattooed in the same font in a circle around Cory's freshly pierced and gelled navel in bright red letters.

And on his left breast, just where it would fall if it were pinned on a shirt, was a perfect tattoo of a policeman's badge. It even had all the wording, and Mark's badge number. It camouflaged his nipple, and I could imagine how much it must have hurt. Cory's eyes were red, and it was clear he'd been crying.

Mark was thunderstruck as his boy approached the high table. Then Cory went down to his knees and bowed his head. "Master," he said softly.

"Cory?!" Mark managed, moving to carefully get his boy back on his feet. "Was… was all this your idea?"

"Yes, sir," Cory said in that same soft, unsure voice. "D-do you l-like it, sir? I… I wanted to surprise you, Master. I should have asked you first, sir. I'm sorry."

Then he turned to show his right bicep where a few Asian characters spelled out (as Paul would later tell me) 'Jian's brother'.

"Oh, Cory!" Mark cried, taking the boy in his arms and just holding him. The hall was quiet again as Mark studied his newly decorated boy. He touched him here and there, careful of the fresh wounds, and lifted him up to face him.

"Thank you," he whispered in Cory's ear. "It's just beautiful! Your little brother would have done the same for you!" He then traced his finger around the badge tattoo.

Then he kissed him, deeply, and there was more applause. More than a few handkerchiefs came out, and I held Zero all the more closely. We both still had a long way to go, I knew, but with a little help from this strange little family, I somehow knew we'd make it.

"Uncle, me wat dat," Zero pointed at Cory, who was now back on his feet and flanked by Mason, Henry, and Sebbie. Each of them kissed him as well, and then their other 'cousins' filed by to congratulate their newest 'cousin'. Given the special tattoos, and the kisses, not to mention the 'Jian tattoo', it almost seemed as if these four were something more. Brothers?

Then everyone took their seats again as dessert was served. I knew it was a violation of Collins' dietary rules, and my own on junk food and sugar, but it was a special occasion after all! Zero refused anything with chocolate, though, and I saw that Mark had Cory on his lap, feeding him a pastry that left cream all over his nose. Mark kissed it off, then let his boy try the champagne that Sebbie presented to them.

"That's amazing work in so short a time," I commented to Nick and Ralph at the next table over.

"Leetle Massah Cory iz bein' a trooper," Ralphie assured me. "He cry, but he take it like a good slave!"

"Me!" Zero said to him, and I realized that he'd used a pronoun, and not his name.

When the night was finally drawing to a close, Collins informed us all that those not departing were welcome to use the prepared suites on the next floor. I was aroused myself, and my erection was almost painful. I could only imagine the rough night that some of the boys were in for, as everyone else seemed to be in the same agitated state! I was wondering about plans when Sebbie came up to us. I had just enough time to see Mark carrying a smiling Cory out the door.

"Sirs, my Master requests that you spend the night in our guest room, on our living floor. You'll find it fully prepared for both you and little Master Zero, sir," he state formally. Then his demeanor changed. "Daddy wants to have another look at Zero tomorrow, Master Don, and he's welcome to spend the day with us in training while you sort out your work schedule, sir. Actually, he's required to. Will there be anything else, sir?"

"No, Sebbie, thank you," I dismissed him, "Tell me, are there things for Zero there? I think I've been neglecting him in making sure he gets some pleasure?"

"Very good, yes sir, there is," Sebbie smiled knowingly at Zero. "Might I suggest a long, hot bath for the digestion, and leaving his plug out for later?" Sebbie winked at Zero, who winked back. "You're on your own, though, sirs. Daddy has plans for me tonight!"

"I'm sure he does," I agreed, and I figured that Mason wasn't the only one in for a long night.

After retiring to the bath, to make a long story short, Zero gave me one of his famous blowjobs that had amazed Ralphie. I hadn't asked, but I didn't stop him. He didn't spit it out, either, and I know I must have had an awful load for him to take. It was probably the most powerful climax I'd ever had. I'd stripped him down to only his pod, and after gently laying him atop of me on the bed, I showed him a smaller white tool like the one used on Mason.

"Now it's your turn, Zero. Uncle's going to make you feel good, like you wanted," I told him, rather than asked. It was a rough step for me, but since I knew he wasn't ready to go all out, it was a starting point. I was going to see if Collins' statement about orgasms in prepubescent boys was true. "You remember when we did this before?"

Zero nodded, and his smile was bright. He nodded, and when he kissed me again, he tasted of toothpaste and mint mouthwash. It was a fresh peppermint scent, and it was arousing.

"Love you, Uncle," he said clearly, as his warm little body began to tremble all over.

It would have been nice to have slept in a bit longer, but apparently, Collins and the boys had other plans. It seemed that there was to be a new schedule in place, and Zero was part of it. His formal training was to begin, as was mine.

At breakfast that morning, Dr. Sebastian Collins was all business as his guests from the party came to take their leave and wish Cory and Mark well. Sebbie and the boys were busy making breakfast when Zero and I arrived, and things were in a bit of a rush. Zero's first lesson was to help with the cooking, and then serving me. Fortunately, Zero took right to it.

"Make it a game, if you have to," Adam Cabot informed me. "I'll be the first one to admit, Henry isn't too sharp. But painful discipline didn't work for him. He was already so withdrawn and frightened, that I found that high praise and physical pleasure were what brought him out."

"I have to agree," Collins added, as the boys began bringing our plates to us. "There are times when I have to deny Sebbie a good spanking, you know. However, he's been raised with harsh discipline. He's used to it, and Zero isn't. I think your boy has experienced trauma that none of ours can comprehend. He's obviously afraid of pain, you said, so you can use that threat to teach him – hopefully, without ever having to use it."

"But be prepared," James Devereaux, Mason's Master, added. "Mason was a rowdy little monster when I got him, and I whipped the shit off of him more times than I can count. I don't think that ball gag came out of his mouth but to suck me off the whole year he was eight!"

"Seven, sir!" Mason corrected him. "And I deserved it, Master. I was a pretty bad boy."

Mark Clemens, who was already in uniform and ready to head out, was watching Cory carefully. "Then again, like Cory, Zero seems so damn eager to please," he mused, as Cory was called over for another round of admiration. His new tattoos shone with healing gel, and although he had to have been in some pain, Cory looked delighted.

Copying the others, Zero had sat down on the floor next to me once we were served.

"Right now, if everything is all right," Collins instructed me, "It's time to praise him. Touch him, kiss him, tell him what a good boy he is. If something is wrong, explain it to him, give him a warning the first time." I did that.

"F-fank you, Uncle," Zero stuttered, clearly perplexed at the whole idea. He made a face. "Th-thank? Thank you!"

"Sebbie and the boys will serve as speech therapists as well," Collins went on. "Zero needs to learn to talk clearly, now that words seem to be coming easier for him." He looked uneasy, though. "Perhaps it's that chip, I don't know. I'll need some new scans and a few more tests to see if there are any further changes to his neural pathways. Oh, and the boy should address you as 'Master' or 'sir', Don. Let him call you 'Uncle' in less formal settings."

"Y-yes, sir?" Zero said softly, those dark puppy-dog eyes looking up pleadingly. It was hard to believe that the wild animal I'd brought home little more than a week ago was getting on so well. I thought that if it weren't for the other boys, I'd probably have to have taken to keeping him in a cage by now. Then again, some of them might have liked that…

When we were finished eating, the boys brought coffee, then got their own breakfasts. Henry's master gave the boy a dark look when he saw the meager amount of food on his plate. "B-but I'm not that hungry, sir?" Henry explained. "Honestly!"

"Look at this, Seb!" Cabot groused at the doctor, pinching Henry's paunchy tummy at the side. "I've had to tighten all of his belts by one notch! I weighed him last night, and he's down SIX pounds! [~3 kg]"

"He works out and eats right when he's here," Collins protested. "Being overweight isn't good for him! And I am NOT starving him!"

"I want a feeding tube put in, if he won't eat," Cabot insisted, and Henry gasped, rubbing his nose. It was clear that the boy didn't like that idea, and I remembered Collins saying something about catheters being Sebbie's ultimate punishment.

Henry scampered back over to the stove to get two more eggs and a few more slices of bacon with a slice of low-carb toast. Then he got the jelly. "Good enough," Cabot told him. "Sugar free crap," He muttered. "No wonder these boys are so thin!"

Now, while I'm no male model myself, I consider myself to be in OK shape; Cabot, on the other hand, looked like he could have had a heart attack at any time!

The boys ate while we chatted. Cabot and Devereaux, it seemed, would be leaving the next day, but the boys would be staying on. Mark was also leaving Cory while he went to work, and it seemed that the Collins Slaveboy Daycare Center was open for business. The masters explained to their boys that Zero needed their help, which seemed to take most of the sting of being left behind out of it.

"You boys have a lot to teach him," Cabot assured Henry. "Look at how HE eats! Look at him!"

"Remember, Mason is to be kept in denial," Devereaux reminded Collins. "He'll need to be drained twice a week, more if he starts getting antsy." He patted the boy's head. "Make sure he stays nice and tractable."

"Yes, yes, yes," Collins sniffed. "Fatten up Henry, keep Mason empty, wipe their bloody noses…" he began to rant, but he did smile. I was sure he'd see to these guest boys, in more than one way.

"And while we're at it," Mark interrupted, giving Cory a look as he got up to go, "Cory and Zero could do with some fattening up, too." He kissed his boy, careful of his new tattoos. "Be good while I go to work, boy!" Mark warned him. "Do what you're told, remember? I'll see you tonight."

"We'll keep them busy," Collins resumed. "I've changed the schedule, all of which they won't be able to cover today." He looked at Sebbie. "As some of us have a living to make, you'll be in charge, son."

Collins handed him a printout. "This is the schedule from now on. Any deviations, or lack of progress on the part of your underlings, will result in YOU being punished severely for it, boy! Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" Sebbie snapped, all traces of the loving son gone. This boy, dressed in black unfettered 'work gear' as they all were, was the epitome of 'slaveboy'.

Sebbie handed me the paper. "Sir, you should review this, too," he advised, taking another copy from his father. His Master.

"Boys, up!" Collins ordered them. "Mason, Henry, you may spend this time with your daddies today," he didn't use the word 'masters', I noticed, "Before they leave. It may be a while before they get back, so make the most of it. Sebbie, Cory, Zero, you will come down with me and report to class. I'll expect you'll be punished a bit for being tardy."

I didn't think that was fair, as Collins was the one who had made them late, and I said so. I would not have Zero punished for something that he hadn't done.

"I would also suggest that you go in to work, Don, and make arrangements for some of that unused leave time you have coming. We'll do a systems check here, and you can go through some things at your office for Zero's benefit, I wonder?" He smiled, and I thought it was one of pending self-indulgence. He wanted to study Zero more, and I couldn't blame him. "I'll be ordering some memory and storage upgrades, so your boss should be happy with you. I'd also suggest that we have Mark go by and close up your house, while he further investigates these attempted abductions." His face grew hard. "I don't much fancy someone trying to grab my boy – or any boy!"

As we all went down to start our day, we met up with Mr. Paul and his little boy, Binaohan, in the waiting room of the doctor's office.

"What's wrong?" Collins asked, as the boys fled after the obligatory hugs and kisses, and a smart slap to Sebbie's butt.

Little Binaohan was sitting next to his master, looking sad. I saw that his cybernetic hand was not attached.

"Seb, I hate to impose, and I'll pay room and board if I have to, but Bin's hand isn't working. I thought that with Master Don here," he fudged, "That you two might be able to diagnose it?"

"That's what I'm here for," Collins assured him. "Bin, stand!" He ordered the boy. The little Polynesian boy did that, standing at attention. "Any special instructions?" Collins then sighed.

"Just let him play with the others, and try to keep up," Paul replied. "I have to get going, Seb, so you can keep him for two weeks? He's really self-conscious about it, you know, and he doesn't want to go."

"Sir?" Bin asked softly, raising his good hand. Collins nodded at him. "I'll help pay for it, sir. I'll do anything you want, if I can play with Sebbie, sir?"

"Oh, yes sir!" Bin nodded sincerely. I wondered if he knew what he was getting himself into?

"Socialization, Don," Collins then told me. "Very important for the little ones. They learn a lot from older slaveboys. Of course you can stay, Bin," Collins patted his head and took his good hand. "Come on in, and we'll examine you. Don, why don't you take Bin's robotic hand to work with you? Don't you people make the chips that run that thing?"

"If it's not an import," I nodded. It felt a bit creepy, putting a disconnected artificial hand in my briefcase, but I guess such was life for a repair tech? At least it didn't look real, with a fake skin coating and even nails. Those things really creeped me out! I then called the office, telling Marvin when I'd be in. He was delighted with Collins' order, though, so it was all good.

I wondered what the boys were doing in school as I got down to work, making sure that Collins had enough working computer memory to analyze Bin – or 'Cyborg', as he liked to be called. Collins stripped him of all his gear, even his chastity pod, and began his exam. I could tell that not all of it was related to his malfunctioning prosthetic, too, as Collins began examining his genitals.

"It's OK, sir, it's not like I ever get to use them," Bin smiled. "Are they OK?"

"No lumps, no bumps, but I think you'll need a new circumcision in a year or so. You're getting a lot of loose skin again, Bin."

"Ah, NO!" Collins smiled at him, giving his ribs a tickle as he turned to Bin's leg. He detached the artificial lower leg. "A boy like this, if he'd stayed in Old Philippines or wherever, would have spent his life begging on the streets," Collins told me. "One thing I won't do, despite the money, is amputations," Collins informed me, as he carefully examined Bin's arm stump again, comparing it to the flesh of his leg stump. "Looks like a bit of inflammation around the neural interface circuitry here," he observed, putting some cream on Bin's arm, and what looked like a large condom to protect it. "Your leg feel OK, boy?"

"Yes, sir," Bin replied, as Collins got out a tube of lubricant. I saw that he had about five percent of his computer system free, despite what had apparently been dumped out of Zero's chip and into it. I wasn't looking forward to my working vacation of analyzing all that data!

"Shut your eyes, no peeking! Did you and your daddy have fun last night, Bin?" Collins asked him, as he raised his legs and slid a finger into the boy. Bin gasped.

"Feels OK to me in there, a bit looser than last time," Collins observed, as the little boy's freed cock rose into a tiny erection. "You peeing OK, no chaffing from your pod?"

"It's good, sir," Bin smiled. Then he squealed as Collins pressed on his little joy button.

"Thank you," the little boy panted, sitting up to hug him. "You're the best doctor I ever had!"

As I got ready to leave for the office, Collins put Bin back in his play gear and pod, reattached his leg and plug, and sent him off to catch up with the boys. "You'll get my bill, boy!" He called after him, "And go and put your suitcase in a guest room!"

"I wonder how Zero was raised?" I thought aloud. "He had to come from somewhere, you know, and that chip in his head didn't just fall out of the sky. Someone created him from the DNA up, and put that chip in his brain for a reason, Doc."

"I'm sure you'll find the answer, Don," Collins assured me, as his next appointment arrived – a high school boy with a follow up to a dislocated shoulder.

"Ah, the old normal, boring stuff," Collins whispered to me, as I gathered up my things.

"I was hoping you'd bring him in so we could all get a look at him," Marvin smirked.

"He's coming along nicely," I replied, pulling Bin's hand from my briefcase. "Marvin, this belongs to a friend of mine. Needs a diagnostic."

Marvin flinched. "Oh," he snorted, "Don't tell me – interface failure?" I nodded. "Must be a Pacific model. Junk chips. Can the family afford one of our chips?"

Marvin looked stunned. "Oh, new slave-owner friends of yours, right," he agreed. "I'll have the boys down in prosthetics get right on it. So, you're finally taking some leave?" He changed the subject. "Going to spend some time with your slave?" He winked.

"It's not like that, and yes I am," I replied, "And I've already arranged for daycare, with no cages!" I threw his words back at him. "Now, if we can round up the Collins' hardware, I have work to do – unlike some people?"

By the time I got back to Collins' building, with two deliverymen accompanying me, the boys were on their lunch break. I met up with them all in the lobby, not looking forward to unpacking and installing Collins' new stuff. Zero was thrilled, as always, to see me. He stood at attention with the others, though, until I held out my arms to him.

"He's been very good, sir," Sebbie informed me, as we headed off to get lunch. "Tell him what you did, Zero."

"I…I w-went school…to school, wit..with…Sebbie!" Zero nodded happily. "I learn…use…a'p-pen!"

"You learned to use a pen? That's wonderful!" I congratulated him. "Every boy needs to know how to write."

"Uncle," Zero nodded, pointing at Cory. He looked at Sebbie, who mouthed a word at him. "Matster," he nodded again, seriously this time. "Dat…that…tat-tat…?"

"Matster, can I has …t-tattoo …like Sebbie and…and Coh-weey?" Zero repeated, his face screwed up in effort.

This wasn't something I'd looked forward to, either, but the law was the law. Zero's butt tattoo of a barcode had finally healed up well, and now he was going to have to get the word 'slave' put on his chest and thigh.

"I think you need one of these, too, Zero," Bin added, pointing to the Asian character on his bicep.

"Master Ralphie and Tahj can make it as painless as possible, Don," Collins assured me, as he appeared out of nowhere. "We can do one small one tonight, I'm sure? Bend the schedule a bit? But still," he added, "Zero should experience how painful it can be, just so he'll know."

"I …know…, sir," Zero said slowly. "Coh-weey say hurt. Slave," he pointed at his chest. "Slave," he pointed at Cory, then at Sebbie, then at Bin. Then he rested his head on my shoulder with a sigh, and I felt his arms tightening. He was trembling.

Bin held up his good hand. "Sir?" I nodded to him. "Can you fix my hand, sir?" Again, I nodded. Bin smiled brightly. "Good! Thank you, sir!" He looked like he had more to say. I nodded to him again. "I got this one," he showed us the Asian character tattooed on his bicep again, well above his stump; he seemed quite proud of it. I had no idea what it meant. "It hurt, but I like it! Tha's just part of it, Zero, sometimes it hurts. But most times, it's nice!"

"Thank you, boy," I told Bin, and I saw that Collins looked pleased as the boys served lunch.

"We'll do his chest, I think," Collins wondered, "Let him experience it for a bit. Then Ralphie can use that special numbing ink he's not supposed to have. We do like to bend the rules, sometimes, don't we Sebbie?" He asked.

"Spoiled little brat," Collins sighed. "Thank God for the quiet room. Sometimes I need the rest!"

Collins nodded at Sebbie. "It's a padded white room, Master Don. It fills with white noise, and it's evenly lit so you can't really see or hear anything after a bit. You just sort of sit there, with your gear clipped so you can't really move, and just relax and think."

"It is, sir," Sebbie agreed, "But you kinda go nuts after more than a few hours."

After lunch, as the boys had a half hour break, Zero proudly showed me his schoolwork. His handwriting was unsteady, but he'd written out the alphabet several times, along with some characters I didn't recognize. They looked coherent, however, and neater. I was sure they meant something, but just as I couldn't read Bin's tattoo, I couldn't read these characters, either. I glanced at the Asian symbols on Cory's arm that meant 'big brother'. If Ralphie and them could have worked Cory over so fast, then perhaps Zero's one tattoo wouldn't be such an ordeal.

I tried to not fret over Zero's schooling and later defense training. I hoped they'd be using dummies, and not each other! I remembered when Peter had wanted to take karate lessons, and of course, I'd let him. He'd actually gotten a purple belt with a red stripe before he'd lost interest in it.

So as I went back to work, so did the boys. Collins was doing a checkup on 'broken arm boy' we'd met earlier, but I didn't recall his name. As he was a young free boy, there was nothing, shall we say, of 'our element' in his exam. I had to admit, the doctor did a thriving business and I had to wonder if some of the boys and young men didn't come to him for problems that didn't really exist? If you know what I mean…

For instance, he had one teenage free boy, about fifteen, I guessed, complaining of testicular pain. Collins found no torsion, his scan was good, but the doctor suggested that a sperm sample be taken for analysis. "Sign here," the boy signed a data padd with his finger, and then Collins jerked him off, collecting his load! Then he gave the boy a long look as he became erect again while dressing. The boy blushed a bit, and Collins gave him a small bottle of pills. "Thank you, Doctor!"

"Placebo, the little pervert," he grinned, once the boy had gone. He then filed the sperm sample, but he did look at a small drop under the microscope. "Good count!" He commented.

As I installed the new hardware, I had an idea. I went back and got Zero's homework, and had the computer scan the odd characters he'd written out. It clarified them into a neat font, then informed me, "Patterns indicate intelligence. Running language scan, known character sets, closest matches." I waited. "Language match found," the computer said.

"Characters identified as language of The Kore of Lamu – a small people living on Lamu Island on the northern Kenya coast. In 1985 they numbered between 200 and 250, with numbers later decreasing sharply (Curtin 1985, Jones 2015). Their history before 1870 lies with the other Maa peoples in central Kenya. After being defeated by the Purko Maasai in the 1870s, the Kore fled to northeastern Kenya where they were taken captive by Somali people. After functioning for years as clients or slaves in Somali households, they were set free by British imperial forces around the end of the 19th century. Loss of cattle brought them to Lamu Island in the second half of the 20th century. They have lost their own language, a Maa variety, and only scattered groups claiming such heritage exist through the African Union after the takeover by President Kabila's forces in 2023. The language has since gone extinct. The island is currently the imperial resort and rumored training center of AU-3, Kabila's alleged secret service forces." [Wikipedia article, paraphrased and added to]

I went to the intercom and buzzed Matthew, or whoever was teaching the boys today. "Can you send a typical homework paper down here for me to see?" I asked. "I have a question about Zero's work."

"You mean those odd letters he wrote?" A young man's voice asked. "I noticed that, sir! Zero wrote that first, right up in the corner, after watching Cory and Sebbie and Bin write their names."

Zero wasn't illiterate, and he wasn't stupid. He watched and learned, and according to the computer, he knew how to write his name: in an extinct African language, once common to the area right near where the African Union's government was located now. "Secret service training island?" I mumbled. "AU-3? Sounds like MI-6!"

"Sorry?" Collins asked, having dismissed his latest patient. I showed him the readout. He cocked an eyebrow. "Our boy is just full of surprises, isn't he? Perhaps he's a spy?!"

I somehow doubted that. "Computer, are there any instances of this word in … in the database received days ago, from unknown core dump during brain scans of patient Zero Jameson?"

The computer whizzed and complained, and the lights went dim for a second. Both of us looked up in surprise. "Affirmative. There are 18,485,293,038,284 files tagged with the word translated as 'Kabila'."

"File count increasing," the computer reported. "Estimated systems failure in fourteen days, three hours, ten minutes, current data dump rate."

The screen showed a display of two CGI characters, obviously naked boys, facing one another. One grabbed the other, and flipped him off the screen. Then the view shifted to show CGI boy getting up. "That was a wicked throw, Sebbie!" Cory's voice said.

"Wireless transmission coming from Floor 13, Collins Building," The computer reported. "Input buffers at 95% capacity, data compression to video at 50% HD."

The doctor's face was pale. Then he nodded. "I'd say that Zero's chip has developed a wireless transmitter," he mused, "Although that's your area of expertise, not mine!"

"Collins, we're not even close to getting a biological-organic interface chip like that to work! I mean, we're not talking about Bin's hand here! That circuitry is like… comparing your medical tools to leeches and bone saws!"

"Computer, shut down your wireless receiver," Collin ordered it. He gave me a hard look. "Don, I'll want to scan him again, as soon as they have a break. This has gone far beyond hacking bank computers and messing up the TV. Zero's chip seems to be transmitting what he's seeing, and maybe even thinking!"

At four o'clock, instead of going for meditation, Zero reported to the doctor's office. He didn't seem to mind being scanned, and I was relieved to see no bruises on him! Collins did a simple flash-snapshot of his brain in 3D, then shut the scanner down.

Zero looked confused, but he said nothing as he came to stand by my workstation. He stood just like Sebbie did, feet apart, hands behind his back, eyes on me with that look of pure adoration on his face.

Collins called up his first scan and compared them. "This," he tapped the screen, "Is the first scan of Zero's brain. Note the small chip and the surrounding tiny fibers?" He then pointed to the new scan.

In the new scan, the chip had doubled in size. There were fibers extending off of it in all directions, infiltrating every bit of Zero's left hemisphere. The colors around the fibers indicated furious brain activity, and what looked like a mesh of them was forming up between his brain hemispheres.

"It's completely destroyed his corpus callosum, the area connecting the two hemispheres so that they can talk to one another, per say," Collins explained. "Without that, as in patients with a 'split brain' where the hemispheres cannot communicate, we essentially have two brains. It's still used to treat seizure disorders. It would seem that the network here has taken over that function, though." He handed Zero a data tablet. "What is that, Zero?"

"Computer, yes," Collins corrected him. "Also called a padd, or sometimes a tablet. Now, shut your eyes." Zero did that. "What are you holding?" He took the padd and gave Zero a small squeeze ball.

"Ball!" He laughed. Then Collins put it in his other hand. "Ball!" Zero declared. Collins gave him the padd back. "Compooter!"

"The left brain, where language is controlled, controls the right hand," Collin explained. "In split brain patients, if they cannot see the object, and hold in their left hand, they cannot say what it is. In fact, they do not know what it is, since the left side is controlled by the right brain, where there are no language processing centers."

"No, I'd say it's interfacing with them. Yes, it's destroyed some tissue while it grows, but I'd say it downloaded the data in those areas before it did it. It may also have found fault with the structure, and repaired it to its own design." He studied the first scan again. "Look here, and here." He pointed at it. "These areas that are black? That was damaged tissue from when the chip was initially shot in. Now they're in orange or red, indicating activity, and full of fibers!"

"7,721,776," Zero didn't hesitate, although he said it one number at a time and Collins verified it with the padd.

We both just stared at him, and Zero looked as if he'd done something wrong. "I sorry, matsers," he offered, pronouncing it wrong again. I was lost for words. A little over a week ago, all he could say was 'no' and 'Uncle'. Now he was forming sentences.

"Zero, how do you feel about your training with the other boys?" Collins asked him.

"You see, Don, he can do complex calculations in a snap, but he can't express abstract or emotional concepts with words. Yet."

"I'm sure he will be able to, once those fibers make their way into his right brain," Collins informed me. "And before you ask me Don, no – I can't remove it. It's gone WAY too far for that! It's gone into his left frontal lobe, and even if we removed it, it would leave him with the effect of having had a lobotomy combined with a massive stroke. I doubt he'd even know who he was."

"I will do no harm, Don," Collins reminded me. He looked away. "God, I swore I'd do no harm, and I … can't," his voice trailed off. Something was bothering him, but I didn't ask.

"The human brain, in infancy, is a blank slate," Collins then began to lecture. "We are who we are, and know what we know, from our experiences. Memories form, and sometimes go too deep to be easily recalled, unless something triggers them. A scent, perhaps? Or a picture of something brings it back? Amnesia is still a mystery. Physical or psychological, we still don't know. We know that sometimes, the brain will suppress an horrific memory to protect itself. But what we do know is that there is no way to erase what one has already learned. Hypnosis can only go so far, but you can't hypnotize anyone into permanently forgetting, say, his name. Something will bring it back. What we have here are clues, Don. We may not see the connections yet, but they are there! And Zero should be able to tell us, someday!"

"Zero, you run along now," I told him. "You did fine, boy. It's almost time for cleanup duty, so why don't you go wait in the kitchen for Sebbie and Cory and Bin?"

"Don't ask him, tell him," Collins reminded me. "Amazing, his language skills," he mused. "I'd say that in a week, he'll be chattering away."

"Let's hope," Collins agreed. "Because I'm worried about him writing the name of that crazy dictator on his homework paper!"

"It's a rather common Kenyan name, isn't it? And isn't Zero part African?" I reminded him.

"Zero is a custom built… child. Let me rephrase it – he came from a custom made DNA set that formed an embryo by force, just like Sebbie," Collins explained. "Remember, he's got all the telltale genetic markers of having been engineered, not conceived. And whoever built him didn't get him quite right – the dwarfism, etc., remember?"

"He did, but we didn't tamper with his DNA too much," Collins explained. "Both of us are homosexual, so that was a given. We both have red hair, again, a given. We only tweaked a few things. He's still got, oh, I'd say 90% of our original contributed genes."

"Among other things, yes," Collins smiled, and I didn't know if he got the joke or not. "Remember, what we did was totally illegal, Don. And what someone did to Zero was beyond illegal – it was immoral!"

"You mean with our lifestyle? You mean that I created a boy to use as my own personal sex toy?" Collins smirked. "And the way I'm raising him? Based on whose morality, Don? Is it moral to enslave a person for a minor infraction of the law, and perhaps maim him physically, and make him be a slave to the State – maybe even for life? Would it have been moral for me to go out and buy a boy? Would it have been moral to leave Bin as a free street beggar? Is it moral to terminate a fetus at any point in time? That's been legal for decades. Is it moral to feed slaves those awful loaf things, and keep him in a cage?" He paused. "Now, you tell me if it's moral to give a boy pleasure, which he wants, and even needs? Tell me if it's moral to love and protect him, and teach him what he needs to know? Is it moral to uphold the Hippocratic Oath, or rather, the HYPOCRITE oath, when it ends up causing harm if you do? Don't lecture me about morals, Don."

"I didn't say that," I fudged, although I wanted to. In fact, I was beginning to resent these people like Collins telling me how to take care of my boy.

"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, Don," Collins informed me. "Trust me, I know."

Cabot and Devereaux returned in time that evening for Henry and Mason to help with dinner. As the boys were cleaning vegetables and discussing what meat dish to serve, Cabot insisted on taking Henry down to the doctor's office. He returned with a naso-gastric tube hooked over his right ear, the end of it vanishing into his right nostril.

Cory looked frightened, but he didn't say a word. He kept looking at the clock as he washed some carrots. Then he sighed and went back to work. Then he and Zero took the scraps down to the rabbits.

Mark arrived just as dinner was being served, and he did not look happy. "Cory, Zero," he said, as Cory went to him only after an affirming nod to do so, "I put your rabbits from home in the arboretum." He turned to me. "Don, your house has been ransacked."

"Someone bypassed security," Mark explained. "Other than rooting around in your personals, though, I don't think anything was taken – from what I've seen of your house. It looks like they were looking for something."

Mark nodded, carefully holding Cory on his hip. I beckoned Zero to me and held him. He was trembling again. "Your neighbors reported seeing an unmarked car in the area, though. A security camera caught this," he held up a picture.

"That's the car the old guy was driving, what tried to snatch us at the grocers, sir!" Sebbie exclaimed.

"Now do you see why I wanted you to stay here, Don?" Mark asked, putting Cory down. "I'm guessing it took someone pretty talented to get past your companies best system you had installed at home?"

Collins did, though. "Zero was seen with Sebbie, and it won't be hard to identify him from a picture," the doctor said, "This gent will know that Zero is here." He faced his son. "I want you lot on full alert, understood?"

As dinner was served, and the boys sat on the floor next to us with their own plates, I couldn't help but keep looking at Zero. He still wasn't that good with a fork, but he was getting it slowly. I just sat and picked at my food, listening to the others talk about work, pending trips, and when they'd be back for their boys. After dinner and cleanup, they took them to the 'playroom', wherever that was, to say goodbye.

Zero was a sharp kid, and he'd not forgotten what Collins had said about his tattoo. When the doorbell rang, he piped up, "Matser Raff… Ralph?"

"Sebastian," Collins said firmly, "Take Zero and go get the door, would you? If it is not Master Ralphie and Tahj, you know what to do?"

Collins shrugged. "If it's a stranger, and he tries to force the door, Sebbie will very probably kill him." He shrugged.

"Oh!" I gasped. And he'd said it so casually? "Oh, he'll just kill him, no big thing, really!'

It was Ralphie, however, and he returned carrying a delighted Zero. Sebbie was holding Tahj's hand, and the black boy carried a small case in his other.

"Let's set up in the living room," Collins suggested. "Sebbie, you and Cory bring out a restraint bench."

When it was all set up, Ralphie and I strapped Zero down. I knew it was going to hurt, and I didn't think I could take it. Collins, however, was adamant. "It has to be done," he reminded me. "He has to learn."

"Yes, but I don't have to like it," I retorted. "Zero, are you ready for this?"

I told them that I wanted the word slave in small letters between Zero's nipples, nothing garish or large. Ralphie agreed.

Then the boys moved to Zero's side as Master Ralphie pulled up a small stool to sit on. He was so big that he was at just the right height as he traced out the template on Zero's chest. Sebbie and Cory held Zero's hands, and the other boys laid a hand on his legs to reassure him.

When Ralphie touched the needle to Zero's chest, he screamed. He strained at his bonds, but unable to move, there was nothing he could do. There was nothing I could do. I felt ill, but the sight of these boys, marked for life but still supporting their friend, gave me strength too.

"Massah Ralphie be knockin' you out, now, boy," He told Zero. "You done good, but enough be enough!"

"NO!" Zero protested, which made every jaw in the room drop. "Z…Zee-…I be…," he couldn't say it. He just didn't have the words, but his teary eyes were locked onto Sebbie's and Cory's fronts.

I could have punched him at that moment, but the sight of that little dark hand clutching a pale one stopped me. God, Sebbie even had freckles on his the backs of his hands!

He held fast to Sebbie's and Cory's hands, he cried until I thought he'd dehydrate his eyeballs, but he did not scream again.

No one else said a word. No one had to. These Masters stood behind their boys, who encircled their friend. All of them had endured it, all of them knew that pain.

Actually, it didn't take long. Ralphie was finished in about half an hour, and he applied gel that must have contained a numbing agent when he was done. He did not put a bandage over it. Red block letters marked Zero as a slave now, for all the world to see.

Zero was wobbly on his feet when he was released, but he stood proud, chest puffed out, but sniffling.

"Da pain take him to another place," Ralphie told me, "He not sure where he be!"

I took my boy into a hug, carefully, and he nuzzled at my neck, keeping his elbows between us. "Love you," he whispered in my ear. "Good… me do… good?"

"You were amazing, baby," I whispered to him, finding, oddly enough, that I was becoming aroused. I felt so ashamed.

"Zee-row not baby!" He reminded me again, squirming out of my arms. He then went to Ralphie, who carefully scooped him up. Zero kissed him, one of those signature messy kisses of his.

"Th-thank you, sir," Zero managed. He then rubbed at his outer thigh, cocking his head at Ralphie.

"I tell you, Don," Ralphie reminded me, "Dis boy have da heart of a slave. He go through all dis to make you… all of us… proud – an' we be!"

"Master Ralphie, sir?" Sebbie then spoke up, without being spoken to, I noted. "May we entertain you for your services to our friend, sir?" The boy looked almost diabolical!

"Perhaps Zero would like to watch?" Cabot suggested, giving Henry's middle a squeeze.

So while our friends – friends? – were being entertained, I rocked Zero while the TV played on the cartoon channel. He'd been through enough that day.

When it came time for Cabot and Devereaux to leave that night, I wasn't surprised to see Mason take it like the perfect slave that he seemed to be. Henry cried, though.

"Henry doesn't take things like this very well," Collins informed me. "Don, why don't you take Zero to the guest bathroom, get him used to a very small enema, and get him ready for bed? Sebbie has prepared some suites on the guest floor for the boys, and Zero needs to learn that slaves don't always get to spend the night in Daddy's bed."

"Tonight's not a good night, Doc," I told him bluntly, as I sent a groggy Zero off to the bathroom. "In case you didn't notice, he isn't stupid! He knows that man came back looking for him! He's terrified! And he must be in pain from that tattoo! Can't you see it?"

When we were alone in the bath, with Zero just wearing his little pod, I took him on my lap. He slowly began stroking my cock, which hardened at his touch. "Uncle, sir?" He asked.

"You can say 'Uncle' when we're alone, Zero," I told him, touching his back, feeling around his chest, making him shiver as my fingers brushed his nipples.

He looked so sincere that I just wanted to sit there and hold him, stare at that adorable little face all night. But I couldn't help but stare at that red word emblazoned on his chest.

"Zee-row, I… try," Zero nodded, his hands never missing a beat on my member. "Uncle, bad man … my room?"

The look on his face was heartbreaking. All he'd just been through, and he was worried about his room at home? I nodded. "Yes, Zero, that bad man got into our house. He got into your room."

"Want me," Zero sighed, as I felt myself about to cum. Zero looked like he was trying hard to think of what to say next, but he never lost his concentration on what he was doing. I have to admit, I never got that kind of orgasm from simply jerking off; there was just something about Zero's soft hands.

"You did so good today, Zero," I reassured him, as someone knocked on the door. I thought, what the hell? "Come in?"

It was Sebbie, stripped to only his pod, and he was carrying a small blue dildo with a curve to it and a prominent head. In his other hand was a tube of gel, and he had a silly grin on his face. "Sir, Daddy says to give this to you for Zero, since he was such a good boy today and deserves a reward. It was mine, when I was like six," He smiled, his braces flashing. "And put the gel on his tattoo when he's dry, sir."

Sebbie bowed and fled. I saw that his butt was a cheery shade of red, and that he was stepping gingerly. I wondered if Collins might have tortured his feet?

"Sebbie tell… say… Daddy… doctor…" Zero didn't know how to say what he was thinking, I could tell. He grasped my softened cock instead. "Sebbie say… daddy… in him?"

"Oh, buddy, we can't do that yet. You're still too little, and it would hurt you. That's why you have to wear a plug, to get you ready. But this will make you feel good, OK?" I showed him the blue toy.

Zero studied it. "Little," He repeated with a sigh. "OK!" Then he added, "Uncle!"

The small toy went in easily enough, hesitating just a bit at the tip of the head. The ridge of it seemed to catch Zero's tiny prostate, however, and as I worked it, he shuddered and moaned in my arms. When he got off, he arched his back and cried out, then went limp. I moved the toy in him for a few more minutes, my boy squirming and obviously enjoying it. I brought him off a second time, and he seemed to go to sleep there in the cooling bath. I got him out, dried him off as best I could, and put his plug back in. He didn't even seem to notice it when I gelled his tattoo.

I held him close in bed, thinking. All the 'what if's' ran through my mind, and I couldn't imagine leaving Zero alone, probably strapped down and helpless, in a strange bed. I wondered if Mason and Henry were all right. The plump little boy ('eunuch', I reminded myself, surprised that the fact that Henry didn't have balls wasn't something I even noticed anymore) was devastated that his master – his daddy – was leaving again so soon. It just didn't seem right to leave him in a guest room all alone.

I drifted off with Zero in my arms, but I didn't sleep long. I woke up hearing his voice, and he was talking in his sleep! You know what they say – you spend the first year trying to get a baby to say "Ma-ma" or "Da-da," then you spend the rest of your life telling them to shut up!

He said it clearly. True, he was mastering prepositions and other grammar slowly, but that sentence came out too well. Maybe it was as Collins had said? A memory was surfacing in his dream?

'Persia'? What did Zero know about geopolitical stuff or nation states? Why would he be dreaming about Persia? Then I recalled Collins' genetic analysis – Zero was part Persian.

"But the Africans and Persians hate one another?" I thought, recalling the news: Africa had the farmland and water now, and the Persians had solar fields and not much else since the oil had dried up some thirty years ago. Hell, the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers were little more than creeks now, and the Middle Easterners had wiped out half of themselves during the Water Wars of '22.

Zero then rubbed at his face and turned over. His eyes fluttered open. "Uncle? Uncle?" He whimpered. "Ow-wee, head… ow- hurt. Head hurt, Uncle?"

"Zero, what were you dreaming about?" I asked him, as I scooped him up to go and find some pain pills.

Zero looked perplexed, as if he didn't understand English. I got him to the kitchen, and got him a pill. I put some more gel on his chest, which was getting puffy and red. Redder.

"Sowr-ree, Uncle," Zero offered. Then he shrugged. It was clear that he didn't remember, and he was starting to drowse again.

"Zero," I asked, as I carried him back to bed, "Do you remember your real name? Can you tell Uncle, now that you're talking so much better?"

"Zee-row, Uncle's boy," he mumbled, "Tattoo, Uncle's boy," he repeated, and then he was asleep again.

And then it came to me what he'd been trying to say earlier: Zero had wanted that damn tattoo so badly, believing (in his own mind) that it would really make him my boy.

Chapter 17
Slaveboy Daycare

Sebbie talks about his friends, his thoughts about Zero, and a typical day in the life.

"Computer, record this, OK?"

What, you think I'm gonna type this all out? Are you nuts?

Master Don took time off his work to stay with us, since he couldn't go home when his house got broke into. At least, that's what I heard Master Mark tell him. I guess other than a hotel, they didn't have nowhere else to go, and Daddy didn't want them to leave. I don't know if he was really worried about Zero, or if he just wanted to study him. I wanted to think that he really did care about Zero. I mean, he's a doctor, OK? He's supposed to care about his patients, even though he's not supposed to get attached to them. But how often do you find a defective slave with a computer chip in his brain? I know I wasn't supposed to know about that, but hey… you all talk like we're not even here, sometimes. You want to know something? Ask the family slave. He's probably heard it all!

Thing is, I don't know if Daddy was getting attached to Zero or not, but I sure was. You don't know how excited I was to find out Zero would be staying with us for at least another week! It's not that often that we make a new friend, you know. We don't get out much.

Still, I think we were all getting on Master Don's nerves.

For starters, every move he made, or everything he said to Zero, was monitored and either approved or disapproved of by my Daddy. Granted, he did need to know how to properly raise a slaveboy, but some part of him kept resisting it. At least, I saw it like that. OK, he raised his free nephew. Fine. The kid went to college and got a good job in computers like Master Don. He loved him, I could tell, when he'd mention him and get that look on his face. I know he misses him, too, but I wonder if that's why he got Zero? Like the Masters told him at Cory's party, maybe he should have just gone to the pound and gotten a cat? Sure, you can tell he loves Zero, but Zero is a slave, just like the rest of us. Not every boy has what it takes to be one, and we're the best there is, all right? Why didn't Master Don see that, though? And why didn't he treat Zero – or the rest of us – like that? We're not free boys, OK? So don't treat us like we are!

I know that every time he turned around, he felt like he was stepping on one of us. Yeah, we're everywhere, we know. But we're supposed to be! That's what we do! He made a joke about our place being a slaveboy daycare center now, and well, it was – I guess? But I like having friends around. It's more fun that way. I mean, cuddling and making out with Henry or Mason while I'm getting fucked is just the best! You'd think that Master Don would like being surrounded by cute boys like us.

Then again, I don't think he likes me. That, or he's just really stressed out.

I finally solved that problem by giving him some advice. I brought him a drink at Daddy's order, and I was breaking his concentration in his study of the scans of Zero's chip and how it 'theoretically might interface with neural tissues'. OK, that's what HE said. I have no clue what he was talking about, but that's what he said, OK?

"If we're bothering you, Master Don, then just tell us to go away, and we will, sir," I told him. "It won't hurt my feelings, but if I may suggest, that you be more gentle with Binaohan or Henry, sir?"

Then he apologized to me! I didn't know what to do, it was so weird. He even patted my shoulder.

"What's wrong now?" He asked me.

"Nothing, sir, it's just that that's the first time, I think, that you've ever touched me, sir. I was beginning to think that you didn't like me, Master." I told him. He must have been upset, because he's the only Master who ever comes here that doesn't do anything with us.

OK, not all slaveboys are sex slaves, in case you didn't know, but some of us are. Got that? And when a slaveboy gives you that smile, it means you're supposed to at least give us a kiss, all right? Are we clear on that now? How many hints do we have to drop? I mean, it's getting to the point of us asking 'what's it take to get laid around here these days'?

"Sebbie, I like you just fine. I'm simply not comfortable touching another man's boy," He replied. Well hell, what's wrong with that? I like it when the other Masters touch me! I mean, shit, once you've had a cock like Master Ralphie's shoved up your… never mind, OK? Just never mind…

I took a chance there. I had to set this dork straight. Right. Whatever… "Sir," I bowed, as I made to go, "You don't have to be uncomfortable. You don't fully understand it yet, sir, if I may be so bold?" Hell yes I was being bold; I was risking a whole day in the quiet room for speaking my mind there.

Yeah, the quiet room. OK, we spend an hour in there every day, and after our routine, you need it! Most of the time, I just zone out and grab a nap. But when you can't focus on anything, since it's all white, and you can't hear, and you can't really move, you start to freak out. I don't know how some slaves keep from going crazy when they're blindfolded or wearing sonic earplugs for days on end! Other than having a catheter, all day in the quiet room is the most awful thing I can get punished with! But I still had to say it to Master Don:

"Zero is very important to all of us, sir. He's one of us now, and that makes you part of the extended family, sir. Daddy hasn't shown this kind of openness or courtesy to anyone since Master Mark got Jian. But if you don't want to make the most of it, sir, then that is entirely up to you. But you'll only end up hurting Zero."

Please don't ask me about Jian. Sometimes I don't know how Daddy does it.

"How old are you again?" He laughed at me.

"Eleven, sir?" I answered, wondering why he'd asked.

"You sound like you're thirty," he replied.

"Slaveboys usually do, sir," I nodded, bowing again to excuse myself.

"Sebbie, stop!" He then said on impulse. I froze in my tracks and didn't move.

"Sir?"

Then he walked over to me and slapped my bare arse, leaving a red handprint on my right cheek! I flinched a little, as my butt was already a bit pink from my routine morning swats. It seemed that it always was, but hey – it wakes you up in the morning!

"Now you're getting it, sir!" I smiled at him. Then I remembered, "OH! I almost forgot! Do you know when Cyborg's hand will be done?"

"Binaohan, you mean?" He smiled back. "Yes, it'll be here tomorrow."

"Is that like that brain interface stuff you were talking about, sir? Cyborg's hand, and the chip in Zero's head?" I had to ask.

"You know about that?" He gasped. So I had to tell him about the way you all talk like we're all deaf or something. He got it. But yeah, it was the same thing.

"He'll be thrilled, sir!" And with that, off I went. He even thanked me.

I went back to my work. Yeah, work. Remember, I'm in charge of the boys while they're all here? If they mess up, it's MY butt!

OK, a bit about Binaohan, or Cyborg. He likes to be called that. Master Paul picked him up off the streets in the Old Philippines, where he was a beggar. I think he was five when he found him, and he'll be nine soon. Kinda small, but he's goin' on nine. He was born without his right hand and right foot – you know, birth defects. No, his master didn't have them cut off. I know some Masters are into that kind of sick and twisted shit, but not Master Paul, and definitely not my Daddy! He's turned down requests to do stuff like that, even for real money or barter in valuable stuff. He won't do castrations, either, unless he just has to. And you wouldn't believe how many people out there want their slaveboys 'fixed'. Hell, don't they know what a chastity device is for?

Where was I? Oh, right – Cyborg. I know he'd asked Master Don about his hand a lot, and since I knew we were getting on his nerves, I warned him to leave him alone and I'd handle it. See, Cyborg's really sensitive about that. I guess you get used to being able to pick up hot pans with a robotic hand, or open jars that his Daddy can't. I know when I 'get gloved', and can't use my thumbs, I have a hell of a time! I can't imagine losing a hand. I think Cyborg got made fun of and left out a lot, though. That's why I like it when he comes here, because we don't coddle him. I think he likes that; he's just one of us. He's not 'the kid with the fake hand and foot' when he's here. He's one of us.

Then there's Henry. OK, Daddy castrated him. But hey, he didn't have a choice, all right? The stupid government made Henry a slave for being homeless when no one wanted to adopt him. How wrong is that?! And part of that stupid idea is that slaveboys have to have a vasectomy, so they can't have kids. Hello? Every slaveboy I've ever seen has a chastity device of some kind. If you can't get at your penis, you can't have kids! Seriously, how stupid are these people? And what about if you get freed? What if you want kids later? But that's the law, and the doctor who did Henry messed him up. He got infected, and almost died by the time Daddy got to him. But Daddy fixed it. I know he can't fix everything, but he sure tries.

Out of all my friends, I think I know Henry best. See, he spent a lot of time here while he was sick. We had to keep him in ICU for two weeks, and he lost so much weight he was just a skeleton. I helped take care of him every day, and I slept in his room every night. If he needed anything, I was there for him. I was the one who got him back on his feet, and through those months of physical therapy to build him back up. So I know how hard it can be on a Master to see his boy suffer. I just didn't want Henry to be Jian all over again.

Sorry…

So yeah, I know Henry. That's why I think it's just wrong to castrate a boy. Henry was the reason I studied up on 'eunuchs' – castrated males. When he was getting better, and we had to tell him what Daddy had to do to save his life, he cried. For a long time. Money or not, Henry is why Daddy won't do it, I think. OK, Henry cries a lot. That's just part of it. Eunuchs don't have testosterone, and I guess that's a lot of it. He's really sensitive, and everything I read said that happens. They get more emotional than 'real men'. Henry's really attached to his Master, too. You've seen how upset he gets when Master Cabot has to leave him here. Daddy calls is separation anxiety. I've never had a dog, but they say that neutered pets get that way, too – needy, and they're more calm. Well, yeah, it's hard to get Henry excited.

I worry that sometimes he's depressed. See, another one of those stupid laws is that unless you're free, you can't have hormone replacements if you're castrated. So if a Master gets a slaveboy's balls cut off, castrated, then the poor kid is done. I mean, he's a eunuch for life. If a free boy has an accident, or gets sick and loses his balls, he can have testosterone replacement. Slaveboys can't, unless they get freed, and by then, it's too late. So I think Henry knows that he'll never have a man-size penis. He'll never be able to really get hard, or fuck someone. He'll always be a bottom-boy. He'll never have to shave or get a deeper voice, either. I know I'd be sad if it was me.

You know that Henry's kinda fat, too. That's another problem with fixed boys. Well, he wasn't always that way. His Master likes him plump, and he makes him eat to stay that way. Like he said, Henry loses weight when he's here. That's because he works out, and he eats right. Henry doesn't like being a fat kid, but since he's a slave, he doesn't have any say in it. Just like now, if he won't eat, he gets a feeding tube put up his nose. That, and being castrated, it's easy for him to gain weight. It's not my place to judge his Master, but I don't like it either. You should have seen Henry when he was healthy again. He was ripped! But Henry is one of us, remember, and under that plump outside, he's in good shape. After he got better, he trained with us, so don't let his looks fool you. He's not a helpless little gelding.

And he's a good kid, really. He'd do anything for you.

Then there's Mason. OK, he's not been around much, so you probably don't know much about him. Mason's older than we are. He's nearly fourteen. He's into puberty hard and heavy, and I guess it's just a bitch to deal with! He's got the most hair of all of us, too. His Master likes it long. Me, I've never had long hair, so I don't know, but I think it's hot, too! Hair on his head, that is. Mason said he gets hair under his arms, on his shins, and around his stuff, too. Well, that's not allowed, for one. His Master lets it grow out a bit, then he waxes it off! OUCH!

Mason got sold by his stepdad when his mom died. He never talks about it, but hey, we overhear things, remember? I think he was like seven then? And I guess he was just 'hell on wheels', his Master said. He was very angry and confused, so he broke things and lashed out at everybody. He didn't like a stranger taking him away, much less touching him. I guess he spent a lot of time in a quiet room, and restrained. Hell, the first time I met him, I was like five and he was eight. His Master brought him in for an exam, and he was wearing a straightjacket! You think I'm scary? Try seeing a crazy eight year old in a straightjacket with a ball gag in a foul mouth, what wants to kill anyone who comes near him! Mason was the only case where I ever heard Daddy make a joke (I think it was a joke) about doing a procedure to harm someone. I don't know exactly what a lobotomy is, but Daddy thought it might have been a good idea at the time!

That's where our training comes in. I mean, our days aren't all work work work. We have some fun. Actually, we have a lot of fun. And seeing us get to do all this stuff that he couldn't do made Mason realize that he didn't have it so bad after all. Well, that and some 'field trips' that Daddy took him on while I stayed with Master Devereaux. I don't know what Daddy showed Mason, but it sure got to him and sweetened him up some.

It was really the Kung Fu and self defense that really got through to Mason. Tahj and Boy know him better than I do, I guess, since they're older. So to Mason, they were the big kids, and I'd guess they probably kicked his arse a couple times. To be honest, I've always been kinda scared of Mason. He's better at martial arts than I am, and not to brag, but I'm pretty damn good! It's just that look he gets in those dark eyes of his, especially when he trains. I know he broke Tahj's leg once in training, but I was still pretty little then. Daddy says that was what 'woke him up,' though. He felt really bad about it, and something in him changed.

That, and I think that was about the time that his Master first fucked him. Trust me, that does something to your head! I can't really explain it, but something changes after that first time, and you're never the same.

Still, he gets to be kind of a jerk sometimes, and I guess his Master still has to be pretty hard on him. Puberty backfired on Mason, I guess. We can all have orgasms, puberty or not, but I guess the puberty ones, once you can squirt, aren't as good as the dry ones we have? Mason says they're not. Still, they're pretty damn good, he says, and that's why his Master won't let him have one very often. You can tell it messes up your head, because Mason isn't nearly so much of an arse when he can't cum. He gets milked twice a week, sometimes more. That's when they work your prostate, but don't let you get off. They just squeeze all the juice out of you, and then you can't get hard, you can't get off, until it builds back up again. By then, they milk you again. Mason said it's like you almost cum, you feel like you will any second, then it all stops and the spunk just runs out like you're peeing – and you never cum. He says when they're done, and you're empty, you're hornier than you were before they did it, and there's not a bloody thing you can do about it! No wonder it keeps him in line.

Sort of makes you wanna stay little for a while longer, huh?

But that's just how it is now. Mason's one of us. Probably the most dangerous one of us, since he's older and crazier!

Then there's Cory. I guess he's twelve, but he's a bit bigger than us. Cory, you know, was a free boy up until he gave himself to Master Mark. You pretty much know his story already, so there's not much to tell about him. He can sure take pain, though! And I thought I was masochistic! (Good thing there's a spell check!) That night of the party, I watched Master Ralphie and them tattoo him on the chest, thigh, butt, and arm! OK, I have a lot of ink so far, and Daddy's goal is to cover me someday, all but my face. We've been too busy to work on me lately, but you already know about my barbwire ones on my arms, and my back piece of angel's wings. But I was conditioned to like pain. And I do like it! Sure it hurts, and sure, you cry – but that's the whole point of it! 'Cause when it stops, and your Daddy tells you how much he loves you and how proud he is of you…

But Cory, man! He'd never had a tattoo or pain like that in his life! And he just laid there and took it. Yeah, he screamed some, but he was doing it for his new Master. I guess it was love at first sight, and that's just the kind of kid Cory is. Whereas Mason was pretty much a jerk, and violent, and Henry was just terrified of being hurt or abandoned again, Cory was starved for love, just like Henry was starved for food. It's good that Master Mark got him. I think he was starving, too. They needed each other.

Cory needed to be one of us.

Then there's Zero.

Man, what can I say about Zero? You already know a lot about him, and we've overheard a lot about him. Like I said, I know about the chip in his brain. I know that Master Don bought him on a whim from the Clearing House, and there was no data on him. That right there's a red flag. You can't sell a slave without a full dossier, and Master Mark's gonna look into that one. Something's wrong there.

I know no one wanted Zero, and they were going to send him off to a research lab. Once they send a slave there, he never comes back.

I've seen muted slaves before. That's something else Daddy won't do – cut vocal cords. But Zero made noise, and he tried to talk. His first night here, he babbled a lot. Honestly, it sounded like a foreign language and he talks in his sleep. Right off, I thought he just didn't speak English. Then there was that night he freaked out and attacked Daddy! Man, and I thought I had a good left hook! But I could tell by looking at him, he was no little kid. Zero had tone, man. He was stacked. I should know – I spent enough time with him. Daddy says he's a 'little person'. He must be, 'cause he ain't built like no kid I ever felt up. His proportions are wrong, and his bones are big. OK, I don't know the word for it, but he's not built like a prepubescent boy. He's more like a small teenager.

Thing is, he's like Cory in how he's starving for attention. He wants to be held, kissed, loved, and I think Master Don doesn't see that. Zero told me, in his own way, that he's never been fucked yet. But he wants to. He doesn't have the words sometimes, but you can tell, and he can say 'yes' and 'no' if you ask him. Remember, we talk a lot when you Masters ain't around. I probably know more about Zero than Master Don does, but you know, if you don't ask, we don't tell. Speaking out of turn, you know.

Sorry, you're the ones who trained us like that!

There's two things that Zero is scared of: being sold, and dying. I figured out the dying part when he told me they found that picture of Jian in the dresser drawer. That wasn't an easy one to play 20-Questions with to get it out of him, but I finally got it that something was in his guest room that bothered him. Yeah, Zero knows what dying is. I guess he's seen it before. Daddy told me once, he thought Zero had horrors in his past that we couldn't know. I think he's right.

And he's totally terrified that Master Don won't want him someday. He talks a lot better now, but like I said, he still doesn't have that many words all the time. But when he says 'slave' and points to my tattoos, then at his blank spots where his tattoos should be, and says 'Zero, no', you sort of get the point. He said, in his own way, that I was my Daddy's boy. And he was touching my tattoos, touching my collar, and all that. They he said 'Matser, Uncle', he always says 'master' wrong, too! And he pointed at where his 'slave' tattoos should be, then, too. Then he says, 'no', and he looks like he's gonna cry.

Zero thinks he isn't really one of us.

I think Master Ralphie would tell you different. Hell, he said Zero had us all beat on blowjobs. I think it's because he wants to do it so bad. He wants someone to love him. Probably wants anyone to love him. Master Ralphie says he has the heart of a slave, and Master Ralphie knows these things. Those Caribbean black men get into a lot of weird shit, man, so you don't mess with them – and you listen when they tell you things! These people can make real zombies, man! You don't mess with them! Have you ever seen a real zombie? Trust me, you don't want to. Not even Daddy can fix THAT.

Problem is, I don't think that Master Don realizes what he's got with Zero. And I'm not talking about how computers and TV's and stuff go nuts when Zero's around. Yeah, I know about the embezzled money that they bought Cory with. Who do think came up with that plan? I know Daddy's computers all crashed when he first scanned Zero, and that they all filled up with data somehow. Like I said, us slaveboys ain't stupid – Zero can talk to computers. We've all seen it. For all I know, maybe his brain is a computer? And I think that's what Daddy's worried about.

I think that's why he wants to keep Zero here with us.

See, another reason I think there's something up with Zero is this – a new computer doesn't know anything until a user uses it, and loads programs on it. I wasn't that surprised when Daddy said there was a chip in his brain, and I overheard him. I saw that scar on Zero's forehead right off. I knew something was up then, since he didn't talk right. Remember when I said there were some real pervert slave Masters out there? I've seen slaves that had shock treatments or brain surgery, even. I know that scars on your head ain't a good sign! I know what 'destruction of brain tissue' means. I've studied some medical texts, OK? Daddy wants me to be a doctor, too, you know. I know what strokes and crap like that can do to a person.

See, that's how Zero acted. He's a leftie, too. But his right side isn't quite right, and the talking problem? Yeah, scar on the left forehead. Chip in his brain. Duh! You'd think they'd ask ME about these things now and then?

And how Zero acted when he met me? Scared as he was – like a little toddler? He was like a big baby! It was like he didn't know nothing! But he learns so damn fast! See, I knew something was bad wrong with him then. Well, had to be, or he wouldn't be coming to see a doctor, would he? He wouldn't have been sold cheap at the Clearing House. God, I can't imagine – standing there on that stage, people groping you, bidding on you, not knowing who's gonna take you home. If anyone does.

See, I think whoever had Zero built tried to get rid of him. Remember, I wasn't made like a real baby, either. I was built, me and my twin sister who I've never met. (Yeah, I know about her; eavesdropper, remember?) Well, they said that Zero was built, too, and that they messed him up. So what do you do with a messed up slave like Zero?

Dump him.

I think they figured if they tossed him into the slave market, some Master would get him, figure out he was only good for sex (and Zero's hot, too, man, don't think he ain't! If I wasn't a little boy, and a slave, I'd fuck him silly!), and that would be that. They'd never teach him to read or talk, just use him for sex, or maybe labor. That, or kill him for organ donations to some rich free boy, or sell him to a lab for new drug tests. It's a great way to get rid of someone, selling them as a slave.

But you know, the more I think about it, I think there's more to Zero's life than that. Hey, I'm a smart kid, OK? I was created to be intelligent. I think Zero was too – they just messed up somewhere. But if they blew it with Zero, he could have been a dumb sex slave at home, wherever that was. They could have sold him for parts or research at home. He could have worked in a broccoli or tomato field at home. You look at him, and he's African mixed; Africa has all the good farmland now, and they need slaves for harvesting. Why ship him halfway 'round the world to get rid of him, then? Waste of money, man. But why ship him off when there's a chip in his brain?

Why put it in there to start with? No one wastes money on trying to help a messed up slave. They just use 'em, or dump 'em. Hell, the State won't pay for slave care. Only free kids get that.

I dunno, but it looks to me like somebody was trying to outdo Master Don's company in building those chips, like the ones that run Cyborg's hand, only better. And if it's a new bio-chip, and you had to smuggle it out, why not put it inside a person's body? Why not in a slave's body? And if Zero was an illegal import, no one would have scanned him real deep. They would have seen the chip if they did. Scanners suck power, and power costs money. That, and you have to ship illegal slaves hard and fast and secret; no time for shit like scans. I think whoever did it to Zero knew that.

Just like if Jian had been a LEGAL import, they would have noticed he had cancer sooner and Daddy could have saved him.

But no one cares about illegal import slaves. They just ship 'em, you buy 'em, and don't invest any money in 'em. Just deliver the packages, man, and usually to perverts who want to … never mind. I'm making meself sick thinking about it.

So that's my theory on Zero.

I don't know whether to tell Daddy or not. I might get in trouble, but I have to think about Zero, too. I like him.

I like him a lot.

Zero thinks he isn't one of us, but he is.

And he really will be when he gets his next tattoo. I'm not talking about the 'slave' tattoo on his leg, either.

Remember that circled 'S' I got on my arm? Henry's circled 'H'? Mason has an 'M', and Cory has a 'C'. Tahj and Boy have a 'T' and 'B', too. When was the last time you saw a slaveboy with a custom Ralphie-tatt on his bicep like that? You haven't, man. It's something special, and we all got it.

Zero's gonna get it.

Oh hell yeah, he's gonna get it. And we're not telling Master Don, just like we didn't tell Master Mark. Daddy knows. Master Ralphie knows.

And I think Zero knows. After the way he hit Daddy? And how he does in defense training? I hate to tell you, man, but I think Zero could kill you if he was really mad at you, or scared. He's got the moves, just watch the video playback. And like I said, he's not a little kid. He's little, yeah, but he's strong. Feel him up sometime. He can lift me over his head, did you know? Matthew, our teacher, saw it in class. He almost shit himself.

Yeah, I know, language…

But anyhow, that's why Zero will get the 'Z'.

He's one of us.

And once you get in 'The Circle', you never leave it.

He just needs to be reassured that he is.

Zero needs. Period. And Master Don has GOT to know this.

Trouble or not, I think I'm gonna have to tell him flat out. I might get a day in the quiet room for it, or worse yet, gloved like I was when he met me. I don't want to think about some of the other things I might get punished with. I might get sent to bed without any play spankings for a week, or not get any sex for longer than that! One time, I had to go a month without so much as a kiss. I mean, I still got hugged, and told I was loved, but nothing else! Do you know what that feels like?! Not to get laid for a month?

But for Zero, it'll be worth it if I get punished. I dunno if you understand or not. It's a slave-thing, and I can't explain it no better.

I have to do it for Zero, and I don't care what happens to me.

***

So I got put in charge of the boys, remember? Now, when Masters Cabot and Devereaux go on trips and can't take Henry and Mason, they usually stay here for a week. It's not hard for a slave to travel with his Master, usually, but sometimes they just can't go. I wonder what it's like, sometimes. I never been anywhere. Mason's been to Australia, and he said it was the most awesome place he's ever been! Oh well. So here's how our day goes:

You get woke up at six in the morning. If you sleep in your own bed, that means someone has to come and let you loose. When I don't sleep in Daddy's bed, I'm in my bed in four-point restraint with a waist belt, so I can't get up. My alarm clock is usually having my bare butt swatted a few times until it's pink. Then it's a quick bulb enema to make sure you're still clean, a quick shower, and into black work gear. We don't wear the good gear all day, you know. Gets it dirty and smelly. The work gear weighs about 5 pounds [2¾ kg] per limb, you know, so you do the math for the extra weight a boy is carrying! Mason says his are ten [4½ kg] a piece, so that's forty [18 kg] extra pounds he has to haul around!

Once we're cleaned up, we make breakfast. Remember, Daddy doesn't like carbohydrates and he sure as hell won't allow wheat stuff in the house. Mostly it's bacon and eggs, or ham and eggs. Lots of eggs. Lots of protein. We get toast sometimes, but I dunno what it's made of. After we eat and clean it up, we have a workout at seven.

Workouts vary. We go to the gym floor, and there's cameras, so I have to come up with something since we're being watched. I like running laps, myself. Mason likes weights. I think Zero likes anything. He never slows down, and he just smiles and just does whatever I tell him to! Henry whines a lot, and he takes some prodding, but he gets there. Cory and Cyborg are pretty much with Zero; they just make it a game and go with it. We knock off at five to eight, since we have to clean up before school.

School's at eight, and we don't go to school like free kids. We have a tutor, Matthew. He's also Daddy's receptionist, so he's here through the week. We have a little classroom set up on the twelfth floor, just off the waiting room. In case you were confused, Daddy's offices are on the twelfth floor. The arboretum and main entrance are on floor 11, so it's like walking into a park when you come in. Daddy says it's very relaxing, and it looks like you're outside. Now, in case you were wondering, you can't get to any of the other floors but for the ground floor at the main entrance, and it's just a foyer. The rest of the ground floor is Daddy's parking garage area, but patients can't get there from there. You only get in there when one of us is on valet duty with the hidden garage door around back. Can't steal our car!

Where was I? Right, floors in our building. Who knows what Master Don might have told you? Hell, he gets lost in the building and I have to go and find him sometimes! If he said something was on some floor before, he probably got it wrong, so don't listen to him!

Right then! So you come in on the ground floor and take the lift up to 11, through the arboretum and rabbit area where the little kids play when waiting, and up the lift to floor 12 for service. We live on the 14th floor actually. 13 has all the guest rooms, slave rooms, and the big pool and party hall for guests at parties. Got that? Now don't get lost if you come over! The floors below, Daddy rents out to tenants, so I don't have to pay too much attention to them. They have their own entrance and lift. Not my problem, although I'd like to get know some of the boys who live in my building, you know? That Jeremy on floor 3 is pretty hot, but I only get to see him when he comes in for a checkup. Free boys… (sigh)

So, back to school. Fidgeting is not allowed; Matthew won't have it. We're probably the only students in the world with seatbelts and ankle restraints! Now, Daddy like antiques, but these old wooden desks are a bit much, I say! Is a cushion too much to ask for? It's not too bad though. We study everything. Zero's particularly good at geography, which surprised the hell out of Matthew. He also writes his name very funny, in characters that even Cyborg can't read – and he knows some old Japanese, Unified Pacific, and Tagalog. But like I said, Zero didn't know English, I think. But he did after five minutes! Scary…

So we have class for two hours, then it's up to floor 13 for swimming. We take the stairs. Daddy says swimming is very good for you, and we're monitored, of course. Matthew takes our gear off, but for our chastity pods, and we get an hour off, pretty much. Zero swims pretty good, too, after just a couple of lessons. Like I said, he learns fast. See, tha's where we have fun. Like Mason learned, you can't swim in a straightjacket, so if you're a good boy, you get to have fun.

After swimming, we go down to floor 11 for arboretum duty. What we do is a bulb check, call in any lights that are out, and trim the plants of any dead leaves or twigs and haul it to the compost area. We feed the rabbits, and clean up if we need to. It's not like you get sweaty or smelly, because it's not hard work. So far, that's Cory's favorite thing; Zero's too. Well, that and the playground. Daddy designed floor 11 to be just like a great big park, since we hardly go outside. Of course, we have to test the playground equipment, too, to make sure it's safe for clients' kids.

We make lunch at noon, and it's usually cold food that's fast to make and clean up, since we get a break until one. It's not much, but we can do whatever we want to.

Then it's back to school at 1 for two more hours. Sometimes it's Matt, sometimes it's John, Dad's other employee – the college boy. John also does our 3PM self defense classes sometimes. That's all new to Cory, but I'm sure he'll get it. Remember when I said Mason kicks ass at it? Well, Zero pulled off a couple of surprises that first day when he floored him! I mean, I showed him a throw once, but Zero's got moves! It's like he already knows what you're going to do, and he can block anything. Seriously, even Mason can't touch him! And all Zero says is, "I dunno," when you ask him how he learned it. John's been studying martial arts and stuff since he was little, and he's not even sure what it is that Zero does.

After that, we take a very fast shower. At 4, it's the quiet room. I told you about it once, but I'll do it again in case I forgot! The quiet room is for resting, and it's also for punishment. After a workout, it's nice to have a nap, though. That's what I always do. See, the quiet room is all white, and pretty bright. It's also soundproof and full of white noise. Even if you yell, you can't hear yourself. It's not big, like 6'x6'x6' [1.8 x 1.8 x 1.8 m], so couldn't move around much, even if you weren't bound. For that, they clip your ankle cuffs together and to a rung in the floor, wrist cuffs clipped together behind your back and to a rung in the wall, and you get a ball gag. So you just sit there and think, but the walls are soft, and it's easy to drift off.

Like I said, though, if you don't fall asleep, you can go nuts after several hours. Try spending all day in there after they give a stimulant to keep you awake…

That's one thing that gets to Mason. I guess he's spent a lot of time in quiet rooms, and it really bothers him, even now. For a big tough teenager, it's strange to see him cry about it. He doesn't do it every time, but he's always pretty shaky when he gets out. I'll let you know one thing about him, too, if you don't tell, OK? Mason's terrified of quiet, dark or not!

At five, we clean the living floor. Someone has to do it, and it's us. Well, ME when no one else is there. That's why I like having friends over. We can usually get a half hour off, if there's enough of us! It's cleaning all this old junk that Daddy collects that's a pain, though. Zero seems fascinated by the vacuum, so we just let him do that. God forbid he drops a vase, or something! But if you keep it clean, then it goes faster. We usually get this time off, really.

At six, we start dinner. Sometimes, if it's just me and Daddy, we go out to eat. There's not many places that allow slaves, but Daddy knows them all, and he trades doctor stuff for dinners with the owners. Cooking is pretty boring, though. I mean, what can you say about it? We make dinner, but sometimes we have to ask for help. One thing, I do NOT like onions. They give me gas and make me bloat, and unless you've got a vented plug, you can't fart! Talk about uncomfortable. Henry likes making meals the best. No surprise there, is there?

This is where one of those slave vs. son things comes in. If it's just me and Daddy, I sit at the table next to him. If I have a friend over, we sit on the floor to eat after the adults are served. You see how that goes? But I don't complain. I know a lot of slaves don't have it as good as I do.

Bedtime is at half nine, but you have to get a bath and an enema before bed, so there's not much time for stuff like TV. Sometimes we watch a movie, though, and get to stay up later. But Daddy says that a boy who hasn't had enough sleep is pretty cranky the next day, and sometimes you fall asleep before that. I mean, with days like ours, wouldn't you? I don't know how many times I wake up in the bathtub with Daddy and don't remember getting in. You know, I don't think I've ever had a bedtime bath by myself. I've never given myself a bath, I know. It's just like with the enemas – I've never had a bowel movement. I've never had to. I've always been taken care of. I've never been left alone, even if Daddy's gone, I have a Master baby-sit me.

It's kinda scary to think someday I'll have to do it all by myself, or have a little boy that I'll be the one taking care of him. Daddy said it scared him, too, at first.

Once a week, I get my pod off for a good cleaning. Daddy blindfolds me, since he leaves the pod off for the whole bath and enema time. I don't remember the last time I saw my stuff. I always ask him if it's OK, and he always says it is. Those nights, he'll leave it off and strap me down on my back, since he says that a boy's penis has to be allowed to get hard sometimes so it'll grow right. I can feel it get hard, even though I can't see it or touch it. It feels weird, but good. Of course, on my back, I can't move, and there's no blanket, so nothing can rub on it. Oh well. Maybe in seven years, I'll get to see it, even touch it. Or maybe eleven, after college. Daddy hasn't decided yet.

We're in bed by half nine, though. Weeknights, you usually don't have sex or anything. Not unless Daddy is really horny, or something. It takes too long, and you won't get enough sleep. That, or you miss breakfast the next morning. So weeknights, I sleep in my bed. If it's a weekend, and I have a friend over, and we whine about it enough, we get to sleep together like Zero and me did. My room doesn't have a window, and my door is locked. I don't know how free kids with a window living on the ground can sleep. Anyone could get in and … well, you know – grab you, or worse… I have nightmares about that sometimes. I'm sleeping in a bed, without any restraints, and someone breaks the window and gets me.

Like I said, I'm restrained. I usually sleep on my tummy, spread-eagled and stretched out a little. My room is really warm, so I don't need a blanket. I have a waist strap, and my pillow's pretty thin, too. I wear a vented ball gag to bed, and a 'quiet hood' if I'm sleeping alone. The hood covers my head so I can't see or hear, so all I do is lay there and relax. My bed's soft, and the pillowtop cover is satin. Sometimes I get a Goodnights diaper [nappie] put on me, and I hate that. I stopped peeing the bed when I was eight, OK? I don't need diapers! I've been trained to only pee when it's allowed. But hey, that's better than a catheter… urgh! Have you noticed I don't like those?

Sometimes Daddy rubs my neck and back until I fall asleep. Usually, if I'm whiney, he knows that means I want him to. Most nights, I sleep really good. I haven't had any nightmares in a long time, though. Poor Zero does, though. I don't know how he gets any rest, sometimes. Those nights he spent with me, it was like, it was awful for him to go to sleep.

So when I sleep in my room, my friends get a slave guest room on the floor below me. So far, that's been how it is, and it sucks. I was sure Daddy would have Henry sleep with me, but he didn't. That means they're strapped down like me, in a small room with only the bed. I really don't think it's a good idea for Zero, but all the rooms have audio bugs, so if he has a nightmare, his Master will hear him. Poor Henry doesn't sleep very good, either, when his Daddy is gone. My Daddy usually gives him a sleeping pill around eight, but sometimes, he'll let us sleep together, like me and Zero did. That's just weekends, though, and then you don't get a hood or gag. It's like a night off, I guess. It's nice. Did I say that already?

Not like we can do anything, though. With a pod locked on and a plug secured in your butt, and your legs cuffs attached to the bed, what can you do but for cuddle and kiss and touch? Still, that's enough – and it's good.

But we've got most of the week to go, so I'm hoping we'll have a chance to have some more fun. But with Master Don being stressed, and Daddy being so busy, I don't know. It'd be nice to get to cuddle all night with a friend, but so far, no luck. We're all in our own rooms. I think that means something's up.

Something important.

Hell, what's it gonna take to get a good fucking around here this week?! What's a slaveboy gotta do – come right out and ask!?

Can you imagine?!

"Daddy, I'm really getting hard up, so could we…?"

Hell, I'd be in the quiet room for a week if I asked!

So there it is, our life, slaveboy daycare, I guess. Sounds like fun, huh? Sure sounded like fun to this one kid I met at the Mexican place. I think Daddy likes to show me off sometimes, and I get a lot of attention 'cause I'm so unusual looking. Or Daddy says so? (What's wrong with the way I look?) See, Raul, the guy who owns the place that we like to eat at, his son is like thirteen, and he said that if the boy didn't straighten up that he was gonna have him…

SEBASTIAN XAVIER COLLINS, JR.!

Shit, Daddy's mad about something! When they yell your full name, you know it's bad! I gotta go!

"Computer, end recording and save!"

Paolo

Zero

The Special-Needs Slaveboy

Chapters 15-17

Chapter 15
Ceremony

Chapter 16
Tattoo

Chapter 17
Slaveboy Daycare

Paolo

Zero

The Special-Needs Slaveboy

Chapters 15-17

Chapter 15Ceremony

Chapter 16Tattoo

Chapter 17Slaveboy Daycare

Chapter 15
Ceremony

Chapter 16
Tattoo

Chapter 17
Slaveboy Daycare